Something To Hold On To
by WinterSunshine
Summary: A misjudged night between a young couple results in a teenage pregnancy. Will Bella and Edward overcome the odds, or will their adversities drive them apart? A story of faith, love and letting go... AH/Cannon pairings.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Bella

It was a night that would change the rest of our lives. It was something, that I'd told myself over and over and over again, would never happen for me. I wasn't that kind of girl. I had morals. I had boundaries. But with Edward... There were no boundaries. Time stood still when we were together. Nothing else existed but the two of us. We were so undeniably, irrevocably crazy about each other. We were seventeen, and we thought we knew what being 'in love' meant. We followed our hearts, when we should have followed His guidance.

Edward's parents were out of town for the weekend, at some marriage strengthening conference. Not that they had a rocky marriage or anything. Edward's parents had always been admirable people in my sights. I had always wanted to be like them. I had always wanted a marriage that could model the love they shared for each other and for the Lord, one day. I wanted to build a life with my future husband and have children, and guide their lives in the way that Mr. and Mrs. Cullen guided Edward's and his older sister, Alice's.

But not like this. Never would I have planned for it to turn out the way it did.

We slept together, overcome by our emotions and overrun teenage hormones, by the knowledge that no one would know what we had done. Little did we both know, that the evidence would last, and grow, much more than we thought it would. Forever.

We'd slept together on the Friday night, and had fallen asleep in his bed. I remember that weekend with such clarity. I woke up just after midnight. I was climbing out of bed, to get dressed, when Edward stirred and asked where I was going.

"I'm going home," I'd said to him, "It's after midnight. My parents will be wondering where I am. They'll worry."

He sat up in bed, watched me pull my t-shirt over my head. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"You don't have to do that." I said it, even though I knew the buses were out for the night. I'd walk-maybe a little fresh air would help me think through what we'd just done.

"I want to," he'd insisted and was out of bed and dressed before I was. We walked down to his Volvo hand in hand. He drove me home; we kissed, lingered, in the driveway. I could see from the front, my parents' bedroom light, blazing behind their gauzy bedroom curtains. Someone was up, waiting for me.

"I'll see you soon," I whispered, and then I moved up the front porch and slipped inside, the door unlocked. I had my back turned, sliding the dead bolt into place as quietly as I could.

"You were out late." My stepfather's voice, so sudden behind me, in the quiet and dark of the front entryway of our house, made me jump.

"Oh!" I squeaked, turning with a hand to my throat, "Dad, you scared me."

He was standing by the stairs in his bathrobe, hair rumpled, glasses on. He had his arms folded across his chest, and for a flickering moment, terror seized my insides, and I was positive he knew. Phil had been with us since before I could remember, and so was more like a dad to me than my real father, Charlie. He lived somewhere in Washington.

"It's half past midnight," he said, "You remember what time your curfew is, do you not?"

"Yes," I replied, hiding my face as I slipped my feet out of my shoes, too ashamed to look him in the face, "I'm sorry. We... we were... watching a-a movie. I-I fell asleep..." As I straightened, I noticed my rumpled, frazzled reflection in the hallway mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my hair in knots. My lips were swollen. If he didn't know yet, he'd know once I stepped into the light. It was obvious what had transpired just a few hours earlier. "I'm sorry, Dad," I summoned, and the guilt in my voice caught in my throat. I was so, _so_ sorry. "I really am. It won't happen again."

"It better not," he said, and I tried to slip past him as smoothly as I could, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek on my way to the staircase. "Bella," he interrupted, catching my arm-not roughly, but firm enough. "Your mother and I love you very much," he said, "We want to trust you... But you have to give us a reason to trust you. It's built, earned. Not a privilege." His eye bored into my gaze, and I had to blink, look away, for fear that he would see the truth embedded there if he looked long enough.

"I understand, Dad," I'd murmured, and he'd released me.

Edward didn't text or call the next day, which concerned me in no small amount. Had something happened-or not happened... Had I disappointed him in some way? The thoughts plagued me all day, while I distracted myself with chores and homework. Nothing could ward off the chill of the imposing, degrading thoughts. Had I been that awful?

I went to church with my family that evening, the anxiety morphing into something like anger, indignation. _Fine,_ I'd thought, _If he won't contact me, I won't be the one to try and talk to him. He's the guy-he should make that move._

The next morning, having just emerged from the shower, he texted me. "_Can we talk?_" I stared at the message for a long time, dripping water on the heated tile floor of my en suite bathroom. I wanted so badly to say 'No' or not to reply at all, but I just had to see him again. I wanted answers, I wanted to talk, too. So I typed "_Yes_" and twenty minutes later, he was pulling up in front of my house in his infamous silver Volvo. I was wearing a Dartmouth t-shirt over a long sleeved top. It was fall, getting cooler out.

We went to the park, walked across the expanse of green lawn toward the gazebo, silent, not holding hands. I knew what was coming. I dreaded it. I prayed to God that it would not happen.

When we reached our destination, he sat down on one of the benches ringing the inside perimeter. I stayed standing. I couldn't sit. I was too fidgety, nervous.

Edward took a couple of breaths, flexed his fingers over his knees, stood, looked me straight in the eye.

On a sigh of resignation, he said, "It's over for us, Bella."

"No," I'd whispered in protest, but I don't think he heard me.

"I'm moving in two weeks-"

"You're moving to Middleburg," I heard myself say, my voice rising, panicky, desperate, "It's less than an hour from here. We'd have weekends, holidays-"

"Bella," he said, and his hands came out, as if to take me by the shoulders, though they dropped to his sides just as quickly, "What happened between us... It can't happen again. God... He didn't want that for us. We shouldn't have done it..."

"I know that," I was whispering again, and tears were rising in my eyes, stinging against the bitter autumn wind that had suddenly picked up.

Edward shrugged, shoving his hands into his sweater pockets. "Maybe this is His way of preventing that from happening again. Maybe..." He paused, as if steeling himself, convincing himself of the words he said next, "Maybe this will be a good thing."

I had nothing to say to that. My head was spinning; my _world_ was spinning out of control. How could any good come from us breaking up? I couldn't see even a tiny hint of logic in his assumption.

"It's decided then?" he finally continued, "It's over between us?"

"I..." I had said, breathless, "I don't... Know what to say. I mean... I suppose... It is... If it is for you..." I sounded spacey, totally out of it. Like an alien, or a robot. I couldn't think except to string together the necessary words, if only to satisfy him. It wasn't over, though. Not for me. Would it ever be?

"Okay," he said, "Well... That's all I wanted to say. I... I'm sorry, Bella." He looked so sincere, so genuine. I closed my eyes so the tears wouldn't escape.

"Let's just go," I'd whispered, and I headed back in the direction of his car.


	2. Six Weeks

**Edward**

"That everything?" I called toward the empty house as I shut the hatch behind the boxes stacked inside my Volvo.

"That's it," my dad responded, stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind him. He came to my side, my mom following behind him. We all stared for a few moments at the house I grew up in. Too bad Alice couldn't be here. She started college this fall, and therefore couldn't participate in the move. "That's it," he repeated, and clapped me on the shoulder. "Drive safe, alright, son? You got the address?"

"I'm following you, Dad," I said as they moved around my vehicle to the smaller car they'd be riding in.

"Well," he said, shrugging as he opened the passenger side door for my mom, ever the gentleman, "Just in case we somehow get separated."

I shrugged myself and climbed into the driver's seat, calibrated the GPS, and waited for my parents to pull out of the driveway ahead of me. As I trailed along behind them down that familiar neighborhood street, I glanced one more time in the rearview, at the house, at the past, at the life we were leaving behind.

_See ya, Jacksonville._

.

High schools are all the same. This was confirmed on my first day at Middleburg High. Kids making out in the halls, that one chick with the huge backpack, careening through the maze of students, to make it to class on time, the usual morning gossip hissing through the lips of short-skirted girls... It was so typical it almost made me want to gag.

I trudged down the hall, class schedule in hand, seeking out classroom number 214. I had Biology first. Joy. I just adore talk of human insides and frog dissections.

I found the room I was looking for and took a seat on the aisle toward the back of the classroom. I dropped my bag on the floor and stared ahead at the balding teacher, scrawling something on the blackboard with a drab piece of yellow chalk. Mr. Gartley, I assumed.

Across the aisle from me sat a couple of guys, who had been talking amongst themselves when I walked in, but were now quiet. The one closest to me, with the blond hair, leaned toward me.

"Hey," he said, "You new here?"

I looked at them, debating over whether I wanted to make friends yet. They seemed pretty decent, so I nodded. "Yeah. Edward," I stuck my hand out into the aisle, and without hesitation, the blond guy took it.

"Jasper," he said, and gestured toward the other guy with his thumb, "That's Emmett." Emmett gave me a high sign behind Jasper's shoulder.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

More students were filtering in now, taking seats that looked assigned. I wondered if I was going to be kicked to the curb by some big tall punk dude. Inside, sidling up on the other side of the table, was a fantastically beautiful girl. She hadn't noticed me yet, distracted by the phone in her hand. It looked like she was reading something. Finally, reaching her destination and seeing that someone was sitting there, she looked up. Her hair was long, even in the twin braids tied by blue ribbon. It was a strange hue of blonde, almost reddish and she had the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen. I couldn't help but compare her build and height to Bella's though, and the fact that their complexions were much the same… Immediately I was shaking the comparisons out of my head.

_You and Bella are over, dude,_ I chided myself.

"Hi," this new girl said to me then, and I was immediately deterred from the Bella-train. She was hesitating, leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

"Morning," I thought to respond, "Sorry, am I in your spot?" I began to rise, but she flung out a hand to stop me.

"No, no!" she said, grinning, "Sorry." She slipped into the seat next to me. "You don't mind, do you?"

_Mind? Not at all._

**Bella**

It was the week after Halloween. Edward had been gone for nearly six weeks, and despite how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to move on. Something must happen between two people that is more than physical when they sleep together. I felt such a strange connection to him, I felt lost without Edward.

"Bells!" I was snapped back into attention by my best friend Rosalie. She was snapping her long fingers in my face. We were sitting in History class, on the floor at the back of the room, working on some poster project we were supposed to be developing.

"Sorry, Rose, what?"

"Gosh, you are _so _spaced lately, Bella. Red or blue?" She held up two markers, one in each hand, and I pointed to the blue one. She bent over the poster, beginning to outline the already penciled-down title of our project. "What's up?" she asked then, peering out at me from behind the blond curtain her hair made across her face. The cross that had been hanging around her neck for as long as I could remember, dangled in front of her sight, and she swatted at it.

"Nothing," I insisted. I really didn't want to talk about it. Was it selfish to want to wallow in it by myself for a while?

Rosalie shook her head, _tsk_ing at me.

"What?" I demanded, picking up the sheet of stickers my best friend and ever obsessive-compulsive-disordered-student picked up from the dollar store last night. I ran my fingers over the puffy stars, and then rubbed them together. Glitter adorned the pads of my fingers.

"Bells, Edward is long gone. You have got to start moving on."

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. "This isn't about Edward." But even to me, my lie didn't sound convincing.

"Yes it is, Bella Swan. And you know it." She sat up on her knees, twisting to look me in the eye. She gripped my wrists in both of her hands. "I know. It sucks. But he's gone and moved away. I wouldn't be surprised if he already has a new girlfriend." I couldn't deny that her words didn't twist a dagger in my heart. "Maybe scouting out a new boy toy for yourself will get your mind off him."

I rolled my eyes, tugging my wrists from her grasp. "You know I don't date that way."

Rosalie sighed, turning her attention back to the poster, her moves slow and deliberate as she outlined the remaining letters. "I know, I know. Just... You've been acting super weird lately."

"Weird? How?"

"Just... I don't know. You'll be amazingly grumpy one second and then all Eeyore the next."

"Eeyore?"

She waved a hand at me. "Depressed. Whatever. Anyway, this post-breakup grieving process is going on far too long. You _need_ to do something to start moving on."

I found myself shaking my head in protest. "I don't think it's the breakup that has me acting like this. I've been getting really bad headaches lately." _Not to mention the near constant nausea that prevents me from eating anything but Ramen noodles and scrambled eggs, as of late. _

Rosalie snorted a delicate laugh. "Okay, Bell. Blame it on the headaches."

"I'm serious!" I snapped, my patience with my friend waning. Usually, it came in copious amounts, but lately I'd found my annoyance peaking faster and easier than normal. "Now stop talking. You're making the nausea worse."

"Maybe you should eat something," Rosalie suggested then, "It might make you feel better."

I shook my head. "Nothing makes me feel better." I rested my shoulders against the cool brick wall behind us and burped. "'Scuse me."

Rose laughed. "You're disgusting."

"Bite me," I commented, keeping my eyes closed. The wave-like churning in my stomach was getting worse and worse. It didn't usually happen at school-only in the mornings and right before bed in the evenings. But now, it was mounting, and I knew I was going to be sick.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, "You're turning gray, Bella."

I exhaled slowly through my lips. "I really don't think I am," I murmured back. Then, I could feel the bile rising into my throat, and I swallowed hard against it. "I'll be back," I said, and pushed myself to my feet and across the classroom. I was running by the time I hit the door, unable to even tell my teacher where I was going, and made it to the bathroom down the hall just in time. I slammed into a stall, bent at the waist, and was revoltingly sick into the school toilet.

Tears clouded my vision, but even through them, I could see past the toilet bowl, to the floor where the plastic paper from a panty liner lay forgotten. I continued to gag, my stomach then empty.

No.

I crouched down, my knees too weak to support me for much longer and rested my elbows to the edge of the toilet bowl, staring at that paper. Had I been so dull to not have even noticed I'd missed my period until now? Nearly _two _periods? I'd never been late a day in my life, not since I started at twelve.

No, no, _no._

"Bella? Are you in here?" I could hear Rosalie calling from the hallway, pushing through the bathroom door.

I managed to stand and flush the toilet before she got to me, and I turned just in time to see my reflection in the mirror over the sinks. She stepped into my line of sight and grabbed my shoulders.

"Are you okay? Did you just get sick?"

I nodded, the tears rising, the sobs sticking in my throat.

"What's wrong?" Rosalie asked as I began to cry. I brought my hands to my face, pressing my back to the stall behind me, between two of the doors.

"Oh, God, please no," I was praying, more desperate than I had ever been in my life, "Please, God."

"Bella!" Rosalie was saying, desperate herself, "What on Earth is going on?"

I cleared the tears from my eyes, pulling my hands from my face. I stared at Rosalie for a moment, working to clear the words from my lips.

"Can you come to the drugstore after school with me?"

"Of course. What are we picking up?"

I took in a breath, inflating my lungs as fully as possible. Then I said it: "A pregnancy test."


	3. Sharing The Truth

**Edward**

The girl who sat next to me in Biology was named Tanya. She was apparently one of the 'hottest girls in school' according to Jasper and Emmett. She didn't go to church and she wasn't a Christian.

When I brought her home for dinner not long after we met-things moved quickly for us-my parents were open and kind to her, asking her about her parents, what she liked to do, what she wanted to go to college for. But after I dropped her off at home-not without a prolonged make out session in the front seat of my car in her driveway-they were interrogating me. They tried to come from a place of respect and understanding, but they warned me about being 'unequally yoked' and against the possible weakening of my faith. I was upset with their suggestions, though if I had to be honest, my faith had been deteriorating since the night Bella and I slept together. I never told my parents about it, I was too ashamed, embarrassed. We hadn't planned it. So many times, I'd heard a voice telling me to stop kissing her, stop, sit up, separate, just _stop_. But I'd ignored that voice, and things had gone too far.

"Where are you?" Tanya asked me then, my face in her hands. She was straddling my lap, staring hard into my eyes. Her hair was loose, trailing down her back in waves. I blinked, coming back to her.

"Sorry." I tried to kiss her again, pick up where we left off, on the black leather couch in my new room, overlooking the huge expanse of yard behind my house. The trees were a menagerie of red, gold and yellow. Still, all I could think about, all it had seemed I was _capable_ of thinking about, was Bella.

_Get out of my head!_

In one moment, I could feel Tanya's hands on my shoulders, and then they were dropping to the hem of my t-shirt, yanking it up over my belly button, and the softness of her hands felt amazing on my chest and stomach, but something had me pulling back from our kiss. I took her hands in mine, gently easing them away from my body. My shirt fell back in place and confusion bloomed over her features.

"What?" she asked.

"Tan... we've only been dating for a couple weeks. It's just... I'm not quite ready for that." Would I ever be? I couldn't imagine ever sleeping with another girl again. I couldn't imagine that feeling of guilt, of betrayal, of breaking a promise, ever feeling any stronger than it did in that moment.

"Oh," she said, and her tone was shocked, even offended. She climbed off of me then, and gathered her things from the other end of the couch-we _had_ been studying for the upcoming unit test.

"Where are you going?" I asked, straightening my shirt out and standing.

"Home," she responded, not looking up as she slipped her books back into her bag. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and shrugged her jacket back on. "It's getting close to dinner time anyway."

I watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder and moved past me, to my bedroom door, without even looking at me. "Did I offend you?" I asked as she passed.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "No," she said, but she still wasn't looking at me, "It's just... You're not who I expected." Then she was gone. I heard her descend the stairs and move out the front door.

"Edward?" my dad was calling up the stairs.

"What?" I responded, moving out into the hall and toward the staircase so that he could see me.

He had an elbow on the bannister, a dish towel over his shoulder. In the kitchen, I could hear something sizzling in the pan, and Chris Tomlin on the radio. "Is Tanya not staying for dinner?"

"I guess not."

He appraised me for a moment, wiping his hands on the towel. "Everything alright, son?"

"Uh, fine," I decided to say, though I wasn't sure what that word even meant anymore.

**Bella**

"Bells, let me in!" Rosalie was knocking on my bathroom door. I stood at the sink counter, eyes fixed on my own reflection in the mirror. I could see the terror in my own gaze.

We stopped at the drugstore on the way home from school and picked up a pregnancy test. I'd taken it, and it was sitting on the counter in front of me, calibrating. I refused to look at it. I couldn't. It wasn't humanly possible for me in that moment.

With shaking hands, I unlocked the door and let Rose inside. "Be quiet!" I hissed at her, "My mom is downstairs. She doesn't even know Edward and I slept together."

"Sorry," Rosalie whispered, and brushed past me, moving over to the counter. I turned to watch her as she stared down at the test. Her composure did not change one bit. Not a muscle in her face moved. There was no shift of recognition in her eyes. She stared for a long time, such a long time that I was becoming anxious.

"What does it say?" I asked her, bracing myself.

Rosalie looked up at me, her face like stone. "Bella..." she whispered, barely audible, "It's positive."

.

It was later. Rosalie had gone home, we'd eaten dinner. The dishes were washed. We were situated in the living room, on two separate couches.

My parents sat side by side, both staring intently at me. I had been the one to call the family meeting.

I sat with my hands folded in my lap, my legs crossed. I was shaking, vibrating off the hinges of my soul. I asked God for peace, for strength, for courage. I asked Him that He would help my parents to understand, and that they wouldn't be mad.

"Bella, what's this all about?" my mom finally asked me. Her eyes were limpid pools of concern. Could she sense the anxiety rolling in waves off of me?

I took a breath and tried to square my shoulders, but I was so heavy with the weight of my guilt that I just sat hunched. "Mom... Dad... I... Made a really big mistake." Immediately, I chomped down on my lower lip to keep from crying. I shook my head, swallowing, fighting against the tears building behind my eyelids. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "Give me a minute." I closed my eyes, blocking them out, praying with even more conviction for the strength to forge on.

When I opened my eyes, they were both staring at me, looking almost as if they were going to start crying as well.

"Bella, what is it?" my dad asked, leaning forward. "What has you so troubled?"

I swallowed back the tears, my gaze flickering from his to hers, back to his, and then down at my knees. "I slept with Edward," I admitted in a whisper, too afraid to watch how they would react.

"Oh, Bella," my mom said, and she didn't sound disappointed, or angry; only heartbroken. This brought the tears back, and this time I couldn't control them. They spilled down my cheeks in hot rivers, and I heard her say, "Did you talk to God about this? Because He is the one who is going to offer you comfort in this time, and he will forgive you both-"

"Mom?" I interrupted, finally gathering the bravery to look into her face. I was still too afraid to look at my dad. He hadn't said a word, hadn't made a sound. How awful it was to disappoint him like this. "That's not all of it."

Immediately she stopped talking, and now I could hear the fear in her tone when she said, "What else is there, Bella?"

I closed my eyes, my face crumpling as the tears shook my shoulders. "I'm so sorry." I inhaled, and the confession slipped from my lips so quickly I wasn't sure it was intelligible: "I'm pregnant."

For a second, it was totally silent, eerie. Then I heard my mom's breathing get faster and when I looked at her, there were tears in her eyes.

"What did you say?" Finally, my dad was speaking, but he sounded so unbelievably angry, that I wished he hadn't.

"I'm s-sorry, Dad," I sobbed, "It was a big mistake. I... I don't know-"

"Bella," my mom said, and then she was coming to me, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me to her side, kissing my hair, "It's okay, sweetheart."

"No, it is _not_ okay!" My dad snapped, rising from the couch. "Isabella Marie Swan, do you realize what a magnitude of a mistake you and Edward have made?"

"I'm sorry-"

"_Stop_ saying that!" he was then shouting, and I watched him pace for a second. Then his shoulders slumped and he said, "I can't even look at you right now." I watched him leave the room, tears frozen in my eyes.

What had I done? Oh, God, what had I done?

.

My mom convinced me to take a warm bath, and then to process my thoughts in my journal. Once I got the tears under control, I slipped under the bath water, listening to my own heartbeat. Pretty soon, there would be another one joined with it-or maybe there already was. I was intensely surprised by how the thought made me feel. Scared, yes, regretful, of course, but... Excitement? I hadn't been expecting the flutter of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

After awhile-in fact, eight pages inside the navy blue leather of my journal later-there was a knock on the bedroom door, and I looked up from where I sat in my window seat, wrapped tightly in my bathrobe. My hair hung loose and still damp down my back.

"Come in," I called in the direction of the door, easing the journal shut. I pressed it between the windowpane and my hip as the door opened and Phil stepped into the room. "Oh," I said, expecting my mom, and my heart leapt into my throat. Was he going to tear another strip off me?

"Can I sit?" he asked, and then I noticed the cup of tea in his hand. This was, undoubtedly, my mother's doing. Typical of her, to have sent him up here to apologize. I love Phil with all my heart, and truly am his little girl, but with all that love, other emotions get strengthened, and sometimes his temper gets away from him. I always knew it was because he loved me so much and didn't want to see anything bad happen to me. And so, it was always easy to forgive and move on. This time, though, I wasn't so sure it would be that easy.

Realizing I hadn't replied to his request, I silently nodded, and he crossed my bedroom toward me, shifting onto the plush cushions across from me. He handed me the tea, and I brought it close, cupping it in my hands and letting the steam wash over my face. For a moment we sat in silence, which was fine. Phil and I had a way of being able to be present but quiet. There was nothing wrong with it. I stared out the window, heart pumping hard. What was he going to say? Where would we go from here?

As hard as I had tried to convince myself otherwise, I was then coming to realize that Edward's and my having slept together-and as a result, our conception-was going to affect more than just our lives, but the ripples of our mistake would extend to relationships and friendships beyond our own.

"So..." he finally said, and I turned my gaze warily to him. He wasn't looking at me; he was staring down at his own hands, clenched tightly in his lap. Obviously he hadn't yet come to terms with my predicament. That was okay, I just hoped he wasn't angry anymore. "Does..." He stopped, clearing his throat, "How long have you known?"

"I just found out after school." This, my confession, seemed to release some of the tension in his shoulders.

"So we're the only ones who know?"

"Other than Rose, yes," I replied, lifting the mug to my lips and taking a careful sip.

He stared at me hard for a moment, said, "Make sure she doesn't tell _anyone_", and for a moment I was offended. Was this _really_ so awful? Such a scandal? Then I realized, that in our community, yes, it was. Where had my shame, my guilt, gone? This was not okay.

"Okay, Dad," I whispered, fingering the rim of the cup.

He said, "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier."

"It's okay."

"No." He was shaking his head, "It's not. I need to learn to control my anger. What has occurred is a very big mistake, but as your father, I should be responding with loving guidance. Not with an explosion of blame and degrading anger."

"I forgive you," I insisted, staring into his eyes. "It's... understandable."

Phil looked away, staring out the window, into the darkened backyard for a moment. He seemed to mull and think for a long time, and I took a few more sips of my tea before he spoke again.

"I suppose... Edward doesn't know yet?"

I shook my head. "I don't... Really think he should have to know."

"What do you mean? He's just as much a part of this as you are."

"I know, Dad, but... He moved away, we broke up, remember? He obviously didn't want anything to do with _me_. Adding a baby to it-"

"He needs to take responsibility for his actions."

"It wasn't just his fault. I have just as much responsibility-"

"Bella." He reached out to touch my hand, and this time his tone was supremely gentle: "He needs to know."

**Edward**

The status of mine and Tanya's relationship grew quickly throughout the school, and pretty soon, everybody knew. People I had never met were greeting me in the hallways. It was like I'd become immensely popular over night. It was hard to ignore the satisfaction that came with that. People were treating me well, and it was becoming difficult to humble myself, difficult to differentiate between what was wrong and right. What had been black and white before was turning grey.

The truth underneath it all, though, was that I felt dirty. I wanted so badly to talk to God about what I was going through, but it seemed that I had forgotten how to pray. So I continued to feed on what was good, what _felt_ good in my life. My budding relationship with Tanya came with many perks, and so her continuous pushes to go further physically than I felt comfortable with were not batted away with as strong a conviction as I believed I would have had a couple weeks ago.

I knew what was happening. Tanya was my rebound girl, and I was using her, and all the good feeling things that came with her, to fill the void the breakup between Bella and I had caused.

I kept pushing on, knowing sooner or later, that the guilt and the desire for my old life would turn off, and I could truly delve into this new person I was discovering, no matter how temporary he seemed.

Tanya and I were up in my bedroom again, 'studying'. It would be a lie to say that I didn't feel awful about what we were doing. It had started on the couch, but somehow we had ended up on the bed, and leaning over her, kissing her, all I could see was Bella's face. It had me hesitating, pulling myself up and away from her.

She laid on her back below me, hair fanned out on the pillow, confusion marring the color in her eyes. "What is it?"

"I think it's best if we slow things down," I heard myself saying, pulling myself back into a sitting position, resting against the headboard. "We're getting a little carried away."

After a moment, she sat up beside me, running her fingers through her hair. Even in my peripheral, I could see that her cheeks were flushed. "What is wrong with you, Edward?"

"Tanya, look-"

"No, whatever. It's fine." She was shifting onto the edge of the bed, easing her feet back into her shoes.

"Tan, wait." I reached for her, but her wrist slipped deftly from my grasp and I came up empty. "Let me explain."

"No need." Her tone was blasé, though I knew she was annoyed; maybe even hurt. "I have somewhere to be anyway."

"Tan, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry." But her tone, snappy and short, seemed a little ticked to me. "I just don't get it, Edward. It's been almost three months, and all you want to do is kiss-"

"I can-"

"Don't bother." She breezed out of my bedroom, slamming my door shut behind her. She didn't hide her heavy footfalls as she descended the stairs and left through the front door. I fell back on the bed, horizontally, and raked my fingers through my hair, letting out a groan of frustration.

A moment later, I heard a knock on my door and sat up. Had she come back?

"Come in."

My dad stepped into the room. "Everything alright?"

I sighed, dropping my face into my hands. "I don't know, Dad."

After a minute, I felt him ease himself onto the mattress beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just..." I looked up, exhaling so heavily my shoulders fell away from my ears. "I feel so... trapped. Tanya... She's a great girl, but... She's pushing for things I'm not sure I want... Ugh. Don't tell me you told me so, because I'm kicking myself right now."

My dad contemplated my words in silence for a moment. Then he said, "So what are you thinking?"

"I don't know. I'm just... Feeling a little lost. Since Bella and I..." I clamp my lips together, cutting off my sentence in an instant. I almost slipped. I almost told him.

"I know, Edward," he said, continuing on, obviously perceiving what I was about to say differently, "Breakups are hard. Your mother and I... We just want what's best for you. Tanya is a lovely girl, but... We just want to make sure you're making the right decisions, even under pressure."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, exhaling heavily again. "It just... It gets harder and harder."

"Have you talked to God about this, Edward?" The way he asked the question told me right away that he knew the answer before I said it.

I shook my head, wordless. It was quiet for a minute and then finally I said, "He feels pretty distant right now."

"'Come near to God, and he will come near to you'," my dad was immediately quoting, and for a minute I was ticked. _It's not that easy!_ I wanted to snap, but I knew he was right.

So I said, "I'll give it a try."

My dad clapped me on the back and stood. "That's all I can ask of you, son." Then he was striding toward my door, and back down the hallway, headed for the main level.

I bowed my head, clenched my fists in my lap and squeezed my eyes shut. But from there, I couldn't do anything else. It was like my faith had been paralyzed somehow. My vocal chords felt strained, unable to utter even a word of prayer.

Was this what my life had become? Was I losing my faith? I never imagined it could happen like this. So suddenly, and without my really being aware of its departure. The thought absolutely terrified me.


	4. edward Knows

**Bella**

"What time are you leaving?" my mom asked me on Saturday morning. It was just after eight o' clock, and we were in the kitchen. I was eating an English muffin with peanut butter on it-the only thing I'd been able to stomach the past few days. She stood at the counter stirring cream into her coffee.

"As soon as I'm finished here," I told her, taking a sip of water. My insides were buzzing, and I'd managed a few bites of my breakfast, but I was sure I couldn't eat anymore. I was unbelievably nervous, and scared out of my mind.

"Let me know when you're at the door, alright?" My mom said then, "I'll come and pray for you before you leave. And for Edward and his family."

"Thanks," I breathed, spinning my breakfast around the empty spaces on my plate. "I think I'm done here." She reached across the counter to grab my plate, and I eased myself down from the barstool I'd been sitting at. I made my way up to my room to adjust my outfit, an eyelet lace top that hugged my tiny, blooming baby bump just enough to make it known, under a red cardigan and over a pair of dark wash jeans. I stared into my reflection in the mirror I'd had in my room since before I could remember. There was no small amount of fear in my eyes, but I also knew that Edward had the right to know about the baby.

It had been three weeks since I'd found out I was pregnant. I was honing in on nine and a half weeks. My parents and I had discussed our options as far as the next couple months, and I'd decided that once I started to show, I didn't want to go to school anymore. Of course, I'd still take correspondence classes online, and Rose was more than welcome to visit me, but I couldn't handle the thought of everyone in my school knowing that I'd been knocked up, because of some stupid misjudged step my boyfriend and I had made... Make that my _ex_-boyfriend.

Part of me knew how Edward would react. He would be angry and shocked and scared. But another part of me desperately hoped-no matter how crazy the hope was-that he would be sort of happy... Like I was. Nonsensically and obviously naively, but I had hope, and it was the only thing holding me together these days. I hoped he could have that foundation, too. Because despite the fact that God had given us free will and choice, I knew that this was somehow part of His bigger plan for us, or at least for me. He wouldn't have allowed this to happen if He didn't have a bigger idea in his mind.

I pulled a jacket on over my cardigan, and my boots out of my closet, and then I went downstairs so that my mom could send me off with well-wishes. My dad would have been here this morning, but he was called into the office for an emergency meeting earlier in the morning. I'd tell him about it later... If I survived.

When I came into the foyer, my mom was waiting and I went to her, letting her embrace me.

I was so thankful for the mercy the Lord had shown me through her understanding and her support. It didn't altogether surprise me-my mom had always been the type of woman whose Jesus light just shone through. Of course she struggled at times-she was only human-but I was blessed to call her my mom.

After a minute, she pulled back and gripped my hands in hers. She bowed her head and began to pray: "Lord we come to you so thankful and grateful for your faithfulness, for the overwhelming, indefinable love you have for your children. We thank you that You allow nothing to happen outside of a bigger plan you have for us. I thank you for this blessing that looks an awful lot like a burden to Bella right now. I thank you that you've made her a strong young woman of your faith, and that you've overwhelmed her enough to lean on, and depend on, You, Jesus. I pray now, as I release her to inform Edward and the Cullens of this new life growing inside of her, that you would go with her, walk beside her, Lord, and give her peace, strength, and confidence. Let Bella know that You are always with her, and you always have control of situations in our lives, if we only give them up to You.

I pray for Edward, that through this, his faith in You will only be strengthened, that he will only improve as a young man in Christ. Give him peace, Lord, give him understanding and grace. I pray for the entirety of the Cullen family, that you make this circumstance into something that You become the center focus piece of, God. I lift them up to you, now, Jesus. In your strong, almighty name, amen."

"Amen," I repeated in a small whisper of my own, and I opened my eyes to look into my mother's face. She was smiling, though there were tears in her eyes, and I knew this wasn't her last prayer of the hour. Nor would it be mine. "I love you, Mom," I said, leaning in to hug her once more.

"I love you, too, Bells." She murmured, and then she released me.

I grabbed my bag off the front table, along with my keys, and then I was off.

**Edward**

"Edward!" my mom was calling from the main level, "Someone's here to see you!"

It couldn't be ten in the morning. I was still in bed, the covers pulled over my face. I wasn't really sleeping, just laying there, thinking things through. Trying to pray in that strange, stilted way I'd been struggling with since my dad's encouragement more than a week ago.

Now, I pulled myself into a sitting position, yanked on my wrinkled t-shirt from the night before and the pair of jeans hanging over the arm of my couch and tried to flatten my hair with the palms of my hands as I descended the stairs to the main level.

I skidded to a stop in the exact center of the foyer as I took in the person standing in the front entryway. She was simultaneously pulling on the zipper of her coat and looking over at me at the same time.

"Bella?" I choked out. I was sure it would have been Tanya standing at the door, though it had been over a week since we last talked. I had to be dreaming. There was no way Bella would be standing in front of me in this moment. How did she even get this address? Had I given it to her before I left, before we broke things off?

"Hi," she said, mustering a smile, though her face looked wan.

My mom had disappeared, so there was no distraction for me. I could only stare at her for an incomprehensible moment. Finally, I shook my head, trying to get my bearings and said, "What are you doing here?"

She folded her hands over her middle and stared at the toes of her boots for a minute. Then she looked up at me. "Can we talk?" she asked.

"Uh... sure," I replied, and gestured to the living room off the front entrance. I started to head that way, but she interrupted me.

"Do you... Want to go for a walk?"

"A walk?" I asked, glancing out the front window. It looked kind of chilly.

Bella took in a breath so deep it lifted her shoulders right up to her ears. She said: "It's... Not something I want... Other people to overhear right now."

Other people? She must have meant my parents. Immediately my heart was pounding. She looked so... guilty and nervous. But more than that, she looked absolutely terrified. Though I wanted to deny it, the first urge that came into my mind was to hug her. I took a step toward her, but stopped myself short. That wasn't appropriate anymore.

I went with her, and led the way down the street. Once we were out of earshot, she asked me how I was doing.

"I'm... fine," was my reply.

"Good," she said. We walked a few more steps. She tucked her hair behind her ears, though the wind whipped it out of sorts not a second later. It looked red in the sunlight playing in the clouds. "How's the new school going?"

I shrugged and said, "Pretty good. I've made a couple friends. They're pretty nice."

She took a breath, as if she were going to say something else, and then stopped herself. We strode along a few more paces. An older couple passed the other way, walking their dog and greeting us warmly. Bella smiled and said 'hello' back. I just lifted a hand.

Suddenly, Bella was stopping, turning to face me and efficiently stop me in my tracks. She took a breath and said, "Edward, I'm going to tell you something. But I don't want you to feel that it's your fault, or that you have to take any responsibility for it."

"Okay..." I said, a little hesitant. She was staring up at me with those big brown eyes, so innocent looking that I wasn't sure I'd be able to back out of whatever she was about to tell me. I wasn't sure, even now, after seeing her again, that I could resist coming back to her. She was like a magnet, I a steel paper clip, drawn back again and again by some unseen force.

"I..." She started, and cleared her throat, "Edward, I'm pregnant."

For a minute, everything went mute and stood still, and then it was all spinning, and I knew I needed to sit down. This wasn't something Bella would lie to me about; she was too honest for that. I knew what the answer would be, but still, I was stuttering: "Wh-what? Are you s-sure? That it's m-mine, I mean?"

Bella crouched down next to me, where I was sitting on the edge of the curb trying not to shove my head between my knees like a total wuss. Instead of being offended, she just shook her head, laying her hand over mine. "You're the only one, Edward."

I ran my fingers through my hair, exhaling heavily through my lips. So much for taming my bed head. Despite what she'd said, I knew I had just as much responsibility in this situation as she did. This was my fault just as much as it was hers. It wasn't a matter of whether or not I _wanted_ to be a father. It was settled in that moment. I was going to be a dad at eighteen whether I liked it or not. It was a matter of stepping up to the plate and doing what I had to do. Little did I know, it would get harder and harder to keep that promise as the next months loomed, as the realization became more and more concrete.

"Okay," I finally said on an exhale, and then repeated the word one more time.

"What... Are you thinking?" she prodded, after I didn't say anything for awhile more.

I released a loaded huff of breath. There were so many thoughts pinging back and forth inside my mind that I didn't know which one to start with. The important ones, I guessed. So I said: "I'm thinking… I want to do this with you."

Bella glanced up at me, seeming shocked, her eyes wide. She blinked a couple times and said, "What?"

I reached for her hand then, no long able to resist touching her. As her fingers, warm, folded around mine, I continued, "I was a jerk, Bella. I'm sorry for that. I was… I was scared, I guess. Of what had happened, of the possibility of it happening again, but… This news is… I mean, it's overwhelming, but I don't want you going through it alone, y'know?"

She nodded, and I could see a sheen of tears in her eyes. I wanted to wipe them away, though I knew her emotion wasn't a bad thing, she was grateful for my willingness to be involved. "Thank you, Edward," she whispered.

I stared at her for a long moment, just holding her hand on that sidewalk. For a few moments nothing mattered. It didn't matter that Tanya was somewhere waiting for me to loosen my belt, it didn't matter to me that I was committed to her. In my mind, I was already back together with Bella. I'd have to talk to her. Whenever she felt like answering my text messages and calls, that is.

In some ways it was amazing. Something was growing inside Bella, a little bit of her, and a little bit of me. I'd imagined it of course, starting a family with Bella. But that wasn't until we were married. It couldn't be all bad, could it? I mean, we weren't married, and we were young, we were going to be stretched, but in some ways this was also… exciting?

Without knowing what else to do, I leaned over and kissed Bella on the forehead.


	5. Committed

**Bella**

My mom was waiting for me on the front porch when I pulled into the driveway. I took a moment, behind the steering wheel after the ignition went dead, to tame my pounding heart, which had been picking up and slowing all the way home-escalating each time I thought about Edward and the commitment he'd promised to me on his neighborhood sidewalk just a couple hours ago.

Now, he'd be talking to his parents, explaining the situation to them. I told him that I thought it would be best if he told them first. The truth of the matter was that I was just terrified to face them. I was almost more afraid of telling Edward's parents than I had been of telling mine.

Finally, I looked up, finding my mom's eyes on mine, and I opened the car door, stepping out onto the driveway. I pulled my jacket and purse out with me and made my way quickly to the porch, the late fall air pinching at my arms. She ushered me inside and asked me how it went.

I took a moment to hang up my coat and place my purse on the bench by the door. Then I turned to her and said, "Good... Great, even. He... was totally understanding. He wants to get back together."

Immediately, a guard went up in her eyes, a hesitation.

"What?" I demanded immediately, my tone cautious, as guarded as hers suddenly was.

She started to shake her head, but then sighed and said, "Bella, this is a very delicate situation. I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

"Get my hopes up?" At that moment my intestines clenched and, grappling for food, growled out their complaint. I moved into the kitchen, on the search for something to eat, more to avoid the conversation than anything else.

"God is going to make a wonderful story out of this, Bella. I know that," she was saying as she followed me into the kitchen, watched me take down a bowl from the cupboard, pull a spoon from the drawer. "But teenage relationships—let alone when involved with a pregnancy as young as yours—are unreliable, you know that… I just don't want to see either one of you get hurt."

Anger, hot and flaring rose in my chest, suddenly, like lava. I had to bite my tongue to hold back my temper. Instead, I turned toward the pantry to receive the box of cereal and poured myself a big bowl.

After awhile, when I didn't say anything, added the milk and began to spoon Corn Flakes into my mouth, my mom said, "Have I upset you?"

I shrugged, trying to find a way to form the words in my mind without them sounding bratty or indignant. Finally, "I just think you're underestimating our ability. I know it's going to be rough, Mom. You don't think I know relationships take work? I'm fully aware of that. But I really think that what's going to be best for this baby is for Edward and I to… to work things out and… work through this together."

"You don't think I don't want the same thing for you two, sweetie?" she said, stepping toward me, from the other side of the counter where I was shoveling breakfast cereal into my mouth. "Of course I'd like you both to overcome the odds, use your relationship and your situation to show what a miracle God can make out of this. It's not you I'm worried about."

"Edward's committed to this, Mom. He even said he wants to come to the first doctor's appointment."

Another sigh, seeming heavy on her chest, released from within her and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "He's committed _now_, sweetheart."

**Edward**

It was getting dark, and we were all standing around the kitchen island, still discussing, still talking. It was hard to believe that I'd found out the news that morning. Would this day ever end?

That morning, when Bella had shared the news with me, things had seemed… attainable, _doable_, even. But then, however many hours later, talking with my parents, they'd brought up things I hadn't even begun to think about. Esme mentioned diaper expenses alone could cost up to fifteen hundred dollars a year. Carlisle talked about how the entire coursework of our relationship would change when there was a child added into the equation. They both reminded me of the challenges and responsibilities I would face as a father—like I'd forgotten. When I asked if Bella and I should get married, Esme was immediately quiet and Carlisle stared at me.

"Marriage isn't something to play around with, son," he'd said, in one of his most serious tones.

"I'm not playing around with it," I'd insisted, "I'm seriously considering it."

My dad shook his head and rounded the kitchen island to put an arm over my shoulders. "Edward, I admire your taking charge of the situation here, your stepping up to the plate, but… Just because you and Bella are having a baby together doesn't mean it's in everyone's best interest to marry her, even God's."

"Edward," my mom said from where she was leaning against the sink, hands clasped in front of her, "I know that right now, Bella seems like the one, and this… hitch in your future will only bring you closer together, but…" There she hesitated, and I knew she was being careful about what she wanted to say next, maybe nervous about the fact that she'd offend me.

"What, Mom?" I'd demanded, in as gentle a tone as I could.

She extended one hand toward me, but made no move to cross the kitchen. She said: "You can't give up your chance to fall in love."

**Bella**

I was sitting in my bedroom, in my usual spot on the window seat. I was supposed to be studying for an upcoming Calculus test, but instead I was searching my Bible for answers, trying to shake off the conversation I'd had with my mom, and then later, with Phil.

It didn't seem to matter to them what Edward had promised me. Both of them seemed convinced that he wouldn't stick through with this for the long haul. If I had to be completely honest, it had been something that had crossed my mind when he'd made that promise to me on the sidewalk that morning. The first thought that had crossed my mind had been doubt, and I hadn't had much time to consider it before my emotions overran the doubt and belief took its place.

I didn't admit that to my parents, though, because I was being selfish. Was it wrong of me to want everything to work out between Edward and I? It would be for the good of the baby, of course, but what if I wanted it to be for the good of me, as well?

I was stuck contemplating this fact when my phone beeped and buzzed from where it sat by my open laptop on my desk. I set down my Bible, spine up to hold my place from where I read in Proverbs and approached the desk to retrieve my cell phone. I was half expecting to see a text from Edward, but it was only Rosalie, asking me how everything had gone.

I sent her a quick reply and barely had the time to set my phone down when it buzzed again. My immediate thought was how quick Rosalie had been in her reply, but when I glanced at the screen again, I saw that the text was from Edward, and I couldn't help but grin at what it said: _"Thinking of you. Praying for you. Talked to my parents. They took it pretty well. We're in this together!"_

**Edward**

The first thing I did when I went back up to my room was hit the floor. On my knees, I was suddenly desperate to pray and the thoughts flowed from my mind as if there'd never been a hitch. I prayed for strength, for peace, for responsibility. I prayed for God to use me, to help me to lead Bella. I prayed for my parents, and for hers, that they would understand, and they would see that this was all part of His plan for our lives. I prayed for Bella, and for the baby, for health and a smooth pregnancy.

And when I was finished, and opened my eyes, I felt refreshed and renewed in a way that I hadn't felt since before Bella and I shared that fateful night.

I knew then that all I needed to do from here on out was pray, and trust what God was doing in our lives. I'd talk to Tanya soon, and Jasper and Emmett. But first, I needed to text Bella and let her know that I was still committed.


	6. Shaken

**Bella**

Each day it seemed I grew more and more attached to the child growing inside of me. I couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. We'd only gotten as far as deciding that we were going to _have_ the baby. I had no idea how Edward felt about keeping it. Did he think it best to give it up for adoption? Or did he think we could handle it on our own?

Thanksgiving passed in a blur. Before I knew it the leftovers were gone and the Christmas season was upon us. I was honing in on twelve weeks. It seemed that time was getting away from me. The more that went on, the faster the time seemed to fly.

Edward and I created a schedule. I'd managed to fill my time with correspondence classes and the new job I got at a spa five minutes from my house. I think they were a fan of me because I could work flexible part time hours. I worked the afternoons on Wednesdays and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I spent the afternoons at the Cullens', doing my homework and waiting for Edward to get home so that we could spend time together and do 'Couple Work' as Carlisle liked to call it. He and Esme always left us alone, but never failed to keep me company while I waited for him. Mr. and Mrs. Cullen were like my second parents.

Mondays were my only 'free' days, and I spent those days fitting in as much schoolwork as I could, submitting as many of my assignments as possible, even if the due date wasn't till Friday. Staying on top of my school made me feel as if I was in control of at least one part of my life, while other parts of it seemed to spin out of control.

I blinked, reverting back to the present where I was instant messaging one of my teachers, inquiring about a couple of the guidelines she'd posted and seemed a little vague on. I was just putting the finishing touches on my assignment and needed to know a few of the finer details.

I heard the front door open and close and glanced at the time in the corner of my laptop screen. Only two o' clock in the afternoon, which meant it must be Esme, and not Edward or Carlisle, home from work. Esme contracted herself out as an interior designer, and was quite successful in her private business. Carlisle worked as a pediatrician further into the city—one of the reasons the family moved, there was more business in Middleburg than there had been in Jacksonville. He was never home before four thirty.

And Edward wouldn't be home until at least three.

"Hello?" Esme called out. I heard her set her keys and purse down on the front table from where I lounged in the living room.

"Hi," I responded, looking up from my computer as I heard her approach.

Esme appeared in the doorway, looking dapper in a pair of grey slacks and a pretty turquoise blouse, accented by some gold jewelry. Her caramel hair was curled away from her face, showing off the brightness of her hazel eyes. As the mother of two teenagers, she held her age very well. "How's the schoolwork going?"

I shrugged. "Pretty good, just finishing up this one assignment and then I'll be done for the day."

Esme lifted her dainty wrist and checked the watch that sat there. "Hmm," she said, "It's barely two o' clock. You're flying today."

I smiled softly. "I try to get finished a little early on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that Edward and I have more time together."

Esme nodded and stood for a moment, gazing out the window across the room. "Well, I'm going to head out and do a little grocery shopping. You'll be okay here on your own for a bit?"

I laughed. "Esme, I'm here on my own basically all day. I think I'll be fine."

Esme returned the giggle, softly, nodded her head and turned, heading back toward the front door.

**Edward**

Tanya approached me on break between fifth and sixth period. I could tell she was angry before she even reached me from where she was storming down the hall. I'd talked to the guys a couple nights previous, before I'd even thought about mentioning anything to Tanya. The few days between then and now had slipped on past and because she still hadn't been talking to me, I still hadn't had the chance to tell her about the situation.

Until then.

"What the hell is going on?" she seethed when she was finally within earshot. I was lucky that the halls were starting to empty—still, we got a lot of stares as she sidled up to me.

"Nice to see you, too, Tanya," I deadpanned as I pulled one of my textbooks off my locker shelf. It wasn't lost on me how many stares we were receiving. "Finally find something noteworthy to talk to me about?"

"It's _you_ who should be talking," she hissed. I was actually surprised at the venom I heard in her tone. "There's a rumor going around the school that you've knocked some chick up. Spill."

I turned to her, tucking my text under my arm and nudging my locker door shut with my elbow. "Could we maybe find someplace else to talk, Tanya?" I asked, "We're getting a lot of looks."

Glaring at me, she nodded.

.

Stepping through the front door at a quarter to four, I realized that I was late.

"Hey," I heard Bella call from the front room, and despite the hour and a half that had transpired just previous to this, I was happy to hear her voice. "You're late."

"Yeah, sorry," I called, slipping out of my shoes and ditching my bag on the bench—which my mother would not approve of. I'd move it later. "Tanya and I had a little… chat."

Bella appeared in the doorway then, her hair loose around her shoulders. "How'd that go?" She had her arms folded over her chest and was wearing a simple t-shirt.

Truthfully, I was still a little shaken up over it and I shrugged, slipping past her to move into the living room. "She was upset." If I had any doubts about this pregnancy thing before, they'd been masked until then. It was starting to hit me how affected we'd be by the people around us, how much pressure we'd receive, the backlash and the absolute disapproval. I was actually starting to feel it, though I didn't want to admit that to Bella. It was all pure selfishness anyway, wasn't it? Tanya had made a few points—in that coffee shop we'd gone to—that I really couldn't disagree with…

"Edward, this is a big thing. You might think you love this girl, but you're only seventeen. You've barely lived. You can't just throw your whole life away over this."

"It's not just me who's throwing their life away, Tan. She has a life to think about, too."

She'd sighed, reaching across the table and around my coffee cup to grab my hands, in a solely platonic way. It was almost, then that we'd gotten all of the hard stuff out of the way, as if she really cared. "What about graduation, what about _college?_ You can't do any of that if now all you have to do is take care of a baby. You'll never _live_ that way. And what if you and this chick aren't even meant for each other? People have sex and have babies together all the time, Edward, and they don't just throw away their dreams for each other."

_Bella's different_, I'd thought at the time. But she was the only one I'd ever loved, and the only one I'd ever even _kissed_ before Tanya. Was it possible that some of what she was saying had some truth to it? I would have loved to dismiss everything she'd said, but a deeper part of me couldn't. Parts of my heart gripped tightly to the words she'd shared with me. It wasn't just the fact that I'd be throwing my chances at college, at doing what I loved, at finding happiness for my life away; it was that I _deserved_ to experience those things. And Bella did, too, of course, but… I couldn't help but think that she had so much support in her parents; they'd help her out with those things, too, right? It didn't _have_ to be me.

"Edward?" Bella's voice cut into my reverie, breaking me free, bringing me back to the present, and I shook the dusty thoughts from my head. "What else did Tanya have to say?"

"Well, I mean, she did make a few good points."

"Like what?" Immediately, though she tried to hide it, I could tell that what I'd said alarmed her.

"Well," I cleared my throat and scratched the back of my neck—both things I did when I got nervous, and Bella knew that. "She talked about graduation, and college, and… following my dreams. I mean, having a baby doesn't mean we just have to give up the things we want to do with our lives, right?" I said we, but was it true that Bella would have to sacrifice more of her life than I would? How did this online schooling thing even work? Would she graduate, would she even qualify for college? How would she attend classes if she had a baby on her hip?

"Well, no," Bella said then, "but I mean… It'll be harder to do for sure. It won't be as easy a time as the other kids…"

"No," I said, agreeing, relaxing into the sofa back, folding my hands behind my head, "Like, I mean… it'll be harder for you, for sure. Because you'll be taking care of the baby and all."

In a beat, I could see that what I'd said upset her. In the darkness of her eyes, I saw a glimmer of defense. She said: "It won't be just me taking care of it, Edward. It'll be a lot of you, too. I can't do it all alone."

"No, I—"

"I mean, I'll mostly be feeding it, but you'll need to help rock it and change its diapers and… burp it… Not to mention things like rent and all the other costs that come with a baby. I won't be able to work right away. Who knows about school? It might need to take a back burner for a while. This baby is going to be our number one priority for the first little while."

I took a second there. I hadn't anticipated that. Was I just expected to drop everything I'd ever wanted for this… this mistake we'd made? Was I supposed to just drop all expectation of graduation? Was I supposed to call up all the colleges I'd applied for and tell them, "Thanks but no thanks"? How could this possibly be good for the long run of the baby? How was this possibly supposed to work? Bella didn't really think that I was going to be willing to give as much up as she suddenly seemed to be.

Sure, I'd love the thing once it got here, and I'd do all I could for it, but was I really just supposed to give up my entire life for it?


	7. The Look in His Eyes

**Bella**

There were many things I was hiding from—familiar people, school, Facebook, all semblances of social media for that fact—but one thing I couldn't ignore was youth group. And amongst youth group, Jacob Black.

"Hey, Bella!" he called across the parking lot. I was just getting out of my car, to head inside where the rest of the youth group was meeting for an outing. He was climbing out of his beaten up Rabbit; chipper as ever, striding towards me on his long, tall legs.

Over his shoulder he carried his jacket, but I was shivering under mine, despite my permanently raised core temp. At least, for the next seven months—no, make that six and a half.

"Hey, Jake. How's it going?" I asked as he caught up to me, and we continued toward the door together.

"Ah, pretty good," he said, "How about yourself?" He pulled open the door for me, and I ducked under his arm, into the warm sanctuary of the church.

"Oh, can't complain," I said, though really, I just didn't want to complain to _him_, at least not here.

"That online school's going well?" he inquired as we headed toward the back of the church, where the gym, and the rendezvous, was located.

"Yeah. I'm actually getting better grades there than I was in school. It must be all the extra attention I'm getting from the teachers."

"Nah," he dismissed, shoving me lightly in the shoulder, "You're just a genius, is all."

I couldn't but laugh at his playful attitude. "Oh, is that all?" I joked.

Jacob was a great friend, and always knew how to bring out a laugh, or at least loosen me up a bit.

Ever since the conversation Edward and I had earlier in the week, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that kept crowding my heart. I hadn't stopped praying about it, I hadn't ceased to ask God to remove it, but it was still there, still crowding in.

The thoughts inside my head—at least about Edward and his commitment—were growing ever the more negative. And it wasn't even that it was his fault, necessarily. Many of the things he'd mentioned had been dead true. Of _course_ he deserved to graduate high school with his friends, of _course_ he deserved to go to college wherever he wanted to go, and not have to limit it because he was trying to take care of the baby and me, of _course_ he didn't have to marry me; though he hadn't voiced that particular concern, it was definitely one of mine. What if that wasn't the intentions God had for our lives, and we just did it because we thought they were? We hadn't even discussed it, and frankly, I was terrified to do just that.

It was true that I believed I was in love with Edward Cullen. But what my mom had to say about teenage infatuation still held true somewhere deep in my heart. And I didn't want to make a mistake—the biggest mistake of my life—because of what I was feeling in this moment, or would feel over the course of the next few moments. I wanted to know how to determine those feelings; I wanted to know for sure whether Edward was the one. I knew it wasn't all based on lovey dovey feelings. I knew we probably wouldn't feel like this forever, even if we were meant for each other. I knew it would take work, and that love was mostly a verb. But I also didn't want to marry Edward just because of this situation we'd gotten ourselves into. And I _especially_ didn't want to marry him, just because I _thought _he was the one because of our situation, and because of how I felt for him.

Jake and I sidled up to the rest of the group. A couple people greeted us, okay mostly Jacob, and then returned their attention to Pastor Luke, who was going over the guidelines for our activity for the night. We were headed over to the local homeless shelter, to serve dinner and then, after, to hopefully have some conversation with a couple of the people currently staying there. That was the part I was excited about, and also a little nervous. Who was I to speak to other people about the love of Christ and the way of life he had in store for us, when I was a prime example of the exact opposite?

/

"Enjoy your meal!" Jacob requested of the lady who took the plate from me. She was Native American with pocked skin and dark empty eyes. But she managed a smile as she reached back for the plastic ware Jake—who stood beside me—had set out on the counter beside her plate.

We were nearly finished, just waiting for one last bus in from the work district. The shelter ran a supportive program for the homeless people, but had their guidelines. They had a temporary program, and then a more serious one that required its occupants to work in order for a place to stay and its meals. These were mostly the people we'd been serving that night, and it felt good to see hope and drive in their eyes.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. The knob right between both of my hips was beginning to smart—as it always did if I stood or sat for too long. Hopefully this bus would get here soon, so I could rest my feet for a little while.

"How are you doing?" Jake asked, reaching over to put a gloved hand on my shoulder. The concern in his eyes was genuine. He really was a good friend. He said he was praying for me, and for the outcome of 'all of this'. I was so grateful for it, and told him so at every opportunity I got.

"I'm fine," I said to him as the doors at the back of the cafeteria opened and men and women began to filter in, headed toward us. As each of them passed off their ticket to the woman waiting just a few feet from where our assembly line started, I saw the look of hunger and desperation in their eyes, if it was only for this meal. I wondered how many of them had trusted the Lord with their lives, I wondered about each woman and what had gotten her here, if anything of it had to do with the situation I was in. I knew I wouldn't end up on the streets, of course. I had a loving family, and too much support for that to happen. Immediately, I was overwhelmed by the love my family had for me, and I could only hope that others _did_, somehow, love these women, and these men—or someday would—the way that so many others loved me.

/

There were three minutes until my appointment was to begin, and my mom and I were still sitting out in the parking lot, waiting for Edward to show up. Would he?

"He knows the appointment is for two o' clock, right?" Renee asked from the driver's seat where she was reapplying her lip gloss for the third time in ten minutes.

I nodded. "Yeah, I texted him this morning and he said he'd be here," I told her, trying to catch sight of his silver Volvo coming up the street behind the office building. "He said… he was excited." I said the last part so quietly I wasn't sure my mom caught it.

"Maybe we should just head inside and wait for him up there."

"You're right," I agreed, "We don't want to be late."

Stupid, stupid emotion was rising in my throat as I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I so badly wanted Edward to be as into this as I was. As committed to it as me. To love the baby as much as I already did. It wasn't that I necessarily expected him to be gung-ho and excited to start a family life—_I _wasn't even that excited. Because it wasn't like we were married and had planned this and were prepared in any way. We weren't. We were seventeen, two people who had let their hearts and their feelings lead them into decisions unwise and which damaged relationships in more ways than we knew possible.

My first trimester was coming to a close, and as it did, as I counted off the remaining months on my fingers—six, to be exact—the excitement that had bloomed in my heart in the beginning months was beginning to fade, and I was _scared_. Trying to put on a brave face wasn't working so well as of late. My mom was noticing my anxiety more and more, which was understandable. It wasn't that I was trying too hard to hide it.

I just couldn't stop asking myself what we'd _done. _

Despite the many hours of the day it felt like I was praying, and despite the soothing words God breathed over my soul, I couldn't help but worry and regret and wallow in the guilt that was ever building.

I would graduate, yes. I would receive my high school diploma and qualify for college, yes. The baby was due in mid-June. Would I ever _go_ to college? I had built so many dreams for myself before Edward and I had slept together. I didn't know _exactly_ what I wanted to do, but I knew that I wanted to build a life for myself, I wanted to go to university, I wanted to provide for myself, I wanted to live on my own. It had seemed one thing to be responsible for myself, but for another human, another absolutely helpless infant? It was occurring to me more and more just how difficult it would be. It was occurring to me just how irresponsible and selfish Edward and I been in our decision to sleep together that night.

This child deserved a life filled to the brim with quality, with joy, with happiness. This child deserved parents who were in love, who built the foundation of their relationship on the love of Christ, who would be wonderful examples of the life one deserved to live. This child deserved to live in a house its parents had provided, one with a big yard and full of clean blue sky. It deserved peace and calm, not the stress and fear of a young mother. And that was the life this child would live, at least for a little while. Of course my parents were supporting the decision for me to stay home. I was undyingly grateful for that. Part of me had assumed that they would encourage me to find a place of my own and care for the child on my own. And of course they would be there at every interval to aid me—financially, emotionally, spiritually—but it was comforting to know, that though I'd be a mother at barely eighteen—my birthday was on the fourth of June—I didn't have to quite grow up yet.

**Edward**

I hadn't forgotten about the appointment. In fact, it had been all I could think about for the past two weeks. I was losing sleep over it. From what Bella had been telling me, we'd see the baby at this appointment, on the screen. That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.

Why was I so terrified?

_God, give me courage._ This small, simple prayer had been my mantra ever since I'd regained my ability to speak to Him. It didn't seem to be working. I was as scared as ever. If I were a hermit crab, I would have crawled into my shell three weeks ago and never come out again. That's all I wanted to do lately, in fact. It was hard being at school, where people knew I'd knocked some girl up. They were all talking out it, _still._ And though Tanya was begin sensitive and very un-Tanya-like, I dreaded the sound of my alarm each morning, summoning me from the oblivious comfort of my bed sheets, to the cold, very real hallways of Middleburg High School.

That was part of the reason I'd taken the afternoon off to meet Bella and her mom at the doctor's office for this very first appointment. But now, idling in the parking lot of some K-Mart one block over, I was second-guessing my decision. Something inside of me couldn't forget the words Bella had said to me the day she'd announced her pregnancy: "_I don't want you to feel that it's your fault, or that you have to take any responsibility for it…"_ She'd given me a free ticket out that day. Everything in me was screaming now. Why on Earth didn't I take it?

I dropped my face into my hands and inhaled long and slow through my nose. This was one of those opportunities to prove to Bella that I was man enough to take this on, that I wanted to be a responsible partner in this, and an eager father. But I wasn't eager, not at all. I wanted out, that was all that I wanted. My hands balled into fists over my eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, God?" I groaned, "Why are you putting this crap on me? Why can't I live a normal teenager's life? Why can't I have a girlfriend and go to football games and live life the way that _I want to_?"

_You can_. I wasn't sure exactly where the voice originated from inside of me. Was that God speaking to me, or was it just me, thinking it was Him? Either way, I liked what it was saying too much.

Yikes. I needed to talk to Bella.

**Bella**

Edward stepped into the waiting room as I was finishing up the paperwork. I had filled out as much of the family medical history portion as I could, but because Edward and I had never discussed anything like that with his side of the family, I simply didn't know much.

I glanced up from where I was writing my signature and fumbled into a clumsy swirl to finish it off.

"Uh… Hi," he said, hands deep in his pockets, avoiding eye contact with both my mom and me.

"Hi," I said, working the pen back in behind the clipboard's mount and then standing to return it to the front desk. The receptionist thanked me and then told me that a nurse would come to fetch me momentarily. When I turned back to Edward, I caught him staring at me, though as soon as our eyes locked, he looked away. He was nervous, fidgety, and though this wasn't new, it never failed to escalate how nervous I already was about his feelings.

"How have you been doing, Edward?" My mom finally spoke up, breaking the awkward silence, and I slunk back to my seat beside her.

Respectfully, Edward managed to look her in the eye as he answered: "I've been… Alright. School's going well. I'm really enjoying my classes."

"That's great. You're doing well, then? Getting good grades?"

"Yeah, I mean, I've been working hard, and studying as much as I can…"

It was then that the nurse called my name and I was rescued from the horrible awkward niceties. We moved into the examination room, and while Edward and my mom took their seats, I wiggled onto the table, doing my best to avoid all of the posters on the walls.

_Don't look at the walls, Edward…_

It felt strange for me to be embarrassed about all of this, when I'd already shared so many other private things with him. And yet, I felt my neck heating as I watched his eyes roam the walls, taking in all the nifty diagrams. I could tell he was embarrassed and awkward, and really didn't want to be here. In some ways, I wished I hadn't invited him. In some ways, I wished he'd stayed in the waiting room, or not come at all.

Thankfully, we didn't have to wait long for the doctor to arrive. It all happened relatively quickly after that. We went over medical histories and symptoms I'd been having. I was thankful that my mom took a mostly back seat role through the appointment. It wasn't like her to overstep her bounds, and I was glad this was one of the times that she recognized it was my turn to take charge.

It didn't stop Dr. Kyle from glancing at my mom with every question she asked, though. She was a good-looking doctor, with long blonde hair that she kept tucked at the back of her neck with a clip. She had clear green eyes, and a clear complexion. She had strong looking hands, a little sinewy, with long fingers. She kept her nails trimmed at a good length, painted a pretty pearl pink color. As the appointment progressed, she seemed to catch on to the way our dynamics worked, and I was sure at my next appointment, she'd look to me for much more of the answers.

Edward sat in silence for most of the time, until Dr. Kyle dimmed the lights for the ultrasound. The gel she smoothed over my stomach—the very, dangerously low part of my stomach I felt a little awkward having Edward see when my mom was in the room—was warm. I kept my eyes on Edward's face, where he stood, just a couple feet from his chair. My mom stood somewhere between him and I, obviously wanting to get a good look at the screen, and her future grandchild.

Dr. Kyle wiggled the wand around a little and I stared intently at the screen, an array of emotions playing across the face of my heart in that infinitesimal moment. Would the baby still be alive? Maybe I'm not even pregnant? What will the baby look like? Will we be able to see its face?

A tiny flicker, in the exact center of the screen, came into view, and I stared hard at it. The picture shifted again, and the entire profile of the baby came into view. It surprised me that the baby looked so big on the screen, but that was probably just how the picture was broadcasted.

"There's your baby," Dr. Kyle said to me. I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen. The baby rolled again and I could see its spine, the back of its head.

"Is that an arm?" My voice sounded faraway and dreamy as I lifted a hand to point at what looked like the baby's tiny arm jutting out.

"Mhmm, that it is," Dr. Kyle confirmed as the baby seemed to bring its hand to its face, and then it disappeared again. Its head looked so huge compared to its tiny body, but I could see its profile, and it looked so unique and individual already. It wasn't enough to make out many distinguishable features—did it have my cheeks, or Edward's lips?—but I could see its tiny nose, the shape of its little jutting chin. I could see its brain inside its head, which was just so weird.

I didn't realize there were tears in my eyes until I shifted them to glance at Edward and they spilled down my cheeks. I rushed to clear them away, embarrassed at my show of blatant emotion.

His face looked pinched and uncomfortable, his hair a wild mess from where he'd obviously been running his fingers through it. He wasn't looking at me, only staring off toward the door, not even in the remote direction of the ultrasound equipment.

My heart sunk.

My mom was too taken with my child on the screen to notice Edward's apprehension, and so it was only me who saw just how out of his element he was.

"Edward," I murmured, and his eyes, a muted, standoffish green, flickered to my face. "Do you want to see the baby?"

It was then that both Dr. Kyle and my mom glanced his way, and his face turned pink. I think he nodded slightly, though I couldn't be sure, and he sidled a little closer, leaning over to take a look at the screen. I watched his face for any sign or reaction, but there wasn't any.

He said, "Huh. That's… cool." And he backed off again, this time with his arms folded over his chest.

My heart, which had already sunken, seemed to plummet even further.


	8. A Step Back

**Bella**

We were standing at the counter booking in my next appointment when I heard Edward clear his throat from behind us.

"Uh, Renee…?" he started, and I tried to focus on the receptionist, scrolling through her computer for the next available slot and not eavesdrop, but I couldn't really help it.

"What is it, Edward?" my mom replied, in an equally as subdued voice.

"Would you mind if I drove Bella home? I'd like to… Talk to her."

Talk to me? About what? The receptionist was saying something to me about an opening at the end of January, and I turned my attention back to her, so I didn't hear my mother's answer, but I was pretty sure she'd agree to it. She tended to support any kind of communication between Edward and I.

My thoughts were confirmed on our way to the stairwell when Edward touched my elbow. I hung back a little bit as my mom descended the stairs ahead of us. "Hey," he said, "Can I drive you home?"

I glanced sideways at Edward, wondering what he was up to. I honestly wasn't sure I wanted to know. "Are you sure?" I asked, "I'm in the complete opposite direction of where you—"

"Have you had lunch?" he interrupted me instead.

I focused on my footing on the stairs, hand on the railing, careful. I had, but it sure felt like I hadn't. "I could eat," I murmured.

Edward nodded and said, "We could go to Angie's. You like their sandwiches, right?"

"Yeah… I guess," I said.

We filed out the door, into the bright afternoon sunlight. My mom jingled her keys in her hand, hesitating a moment. Edward had parked a couple spaces away from us.

I sighed. "I'll see you later, Mom," I said, and Edward's shoulders seemed to… simultaneously relax and tense.

She smiled at me. "Nice to see you, Edward." Then she was off.

We headed over to the Volvo, where Edward opened my door for me. It embarrassed me for some unforeseen reason, and I tried to hide my blush as he shut the door behind me and rounded the hood to the driver's side.

It was an approximate ten-minute drive from the doctor's office to the sub shop, and we didn't say anything for most of the ride. The music playing on Edward's radio was much too loud to have a comfortable conversation over, anyway.

I busied myself by digging the photos that Dr. Kyle had given us out of my purse and flipping through them. Most of them looked quite similar, but I couldn't stop staring at them.

Edward must have been speeding, because we pulled up to the sub shop in a shorter time than I thought possible. We ordered our sandwiches and found a table in the corner.

Immediately, Edward dug into his, taking a huge bite and chewing almost obnoxiously loud. But who was I to judge? I was moody and pregnant. I could have been a little sensitive to the situation, especially with the results of this afternoon's doctor's visit.

I unwrapped my sub, but didn't make a move to take a bite. I'd been hungry fifteen minutes ago, but now my stomach was turning and flipping. I sipped my sweet tea instead.

I waited for Edward to swallow before I said: "What is this all about?"

He took a big gulp of his Cola and said, "What do you mean?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "C'mon, Edward. I saw the way you were acting at the doctor's office. You were clearly uncomfortable. And what about that conversation we had a couple of weeks ago?"

He stared out the window for a moment, squinting against the glare of the sun. "I mean," he finally said, "This is my life we're talking about, remember?" _It's my life, too,_ I thought, but didn't speak, because he continued on, "I'm in my senior year of high school. I want… To go to games and… Pick where I want to college without limits, and… Have a girlfriend." I couldn't not wince at that one, and he noticed. His eyes softened. He looked as if he was going to stretch a hand across the table, but hesitated. "Bella," he said, "I honestly feel like a huge bag of crap. I'm being awful to you. You don't deserve some half-in-half-out kind of boyfriend who can't commit. I know very well what I'm doing to you. But… You even said in the beginning that I didn't… Have to take responsibility if I didn't want to…"

It felt like I'd swallowed a brick. The anger thrumming in my chest was unbelievable. The strength of it made me want to hit something, or scream. I had to swallow twice before I could get any words out. "But… You said you wanted to take responsibility…"

"I… I did. But… I also want a life. Is that too much to ask?"

"So you think you can just change your mind because it gets scary? Is that it, Edward? Selfish coward..." I could hear the heat in my voice, the anger. And I wanted him to hear it, I wanted him to see that I was hurt, that he couldn't just back out of this. But at the same, buried somewhere deeper, I wanted to let him go. I loved him too much to let him suffer like this.

"Bella, you didn't even talk to me about choices. You just automatically decided that you were going to keep it. You can't tell me that I'm being selfish when you made a decision like that without me."

The words he said held major truth to him, but I wasn't ready to admit that was so. "I… I…" I was blabbing like an idiot, stuttering over my words. I didn't know what to say to that, only that I wanted to.

"I… Wanted… Want to be with you, Bella. But…"

"But the baby changes things," I snapped in assumption. It felt like he'd slapped me in the face, saying that. This baby deserved to be loved by its daddy, didn't it?

"C'mon, Bella, I didn't mean it like that." He reached again, and this time found my hand. I couldn't even think about pulling away. I was too weak for that. I wanted him too much. "I'm _sorry._"

I shook my head. "I'm so confused. First you don't want anything to do with me, and then you're saying that you would if I weren't pregnant…"

"I don't know what I want. I just know that… I can't do this right now, Bella. I'm… I'm sorry."

**Edward**

Lucky me, when I got home both my mom and dad were waiting.

"Edward, is that you, son?" I heard my dad call from the living room.

_Who else would it be, dad?_ "Yeah, it's me," I called from the front door, where I was slipping out of my shoes. I dropped my bag from the door and my keys on the table, where a nativity scene was set up. I walked past the staircase, where garland and mini twinkle lights were strung along the bannister. Reaching the doorway of the living room, I noted the Christmas tree that stood in the corner, adorned and decorated. When had my mom found time to do this?

My parents were situated on the loveseat closest to the fireplace. They were holding hands, a Bible set on the arm of the couch next to my mom's elbow.

"How did the appointment go?" she asked me. Something in her eyes told me that they'd been praying, that they'd known something was wrong.

In an instant, the weight of this afternoon was too much on my shoulders, and I had to sit down. I sunk into the chair closest to me, leaning toward to rest my elbows on my knees, and my forehead in my hands.

"Is everything okay, Edward?" I heard my dad inquire. The concern in his voice was too much. I didn't deserve their empathy.

Slowly, I rocked my head back and forth in my hands. "Bella and the baby are fine. The appointment was fine, I just… I don't know what to do anymore."

"What's going on?" my mom asked. She seemed so far away in this moment. Desperately, I just wanted to reach out to her, to crawl into her lap like I had when I was a young boy, curl up there and stay small and innocent and free.

"I'm the worst person in the world. It's all… Just so overwhelming. I took Bella to lunch after the appointment, and I told her that I… I can't do this anymore."

Both of them were quiet for a moment, and then my dad said quietly, "Edward, look at me." It was nearly impossible to do it, but I lifted my gaze to my father's eyes. He didn't look angry or upset or disappointed in me. He looked determined and full of concern. Always concerned. "Bella needs you right now," he said, "She needs you to be there, to be responsible and reliable."

"She told me in the beginning that I didn't have to take any responsibility for it. I… I can't be a father, dad. Not yet."

"Regardless of any situation, Edward, you're already a father. You can't change that."

A sound of frustration released from my throat and I found myself saying, for I don't know what time that day, "This is my _life_ we're talking about! I can't _do_ this!"

My parents were quiet for a while, both of them contemplating. The gaze they shared made me wonder if they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

"We're not going to tell you what to and not to do, son," my dad finally said, "This is a decision that is ultimately between you and God. It would be wise to do what he would want you to do. But we understand how overwhelming this is. I think it would be a good idea to pray, Edward. Ask what God wants of you."

I found myself shaking my head. "I don't know what He wants. He won't tell me. All I can hear is myself." Again my head was in my hands. It was very quiet for a very long time. When I finally looked up again, both of my parents had left the room, but they'd abandoned the Bible on the couch. Unthinkingly I reached for it, and opened it up the ribbon bookmark, the way they'd left it, the way they always left it. About halfway down the page, was a highlighted verse, and my eyes were drawn to it without hesitation. First John, Chapter four, verses eighteen to nineteen stared me hard in the face: _"There is no fear in love. But perfect love_ _drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us."_


	9. Christmas Hits Home

**Bella**

Despite the happenings between Edward and I, the next few weeks passed in a blur, and Christmas was upon us. My parents had accepted an invitation to the Cullens' Christmas Eve party back in September, before anything had happened, and now I was helpless to change anything about it.

It was becoming more and more apparent to me that no matter how strong my feelings were for Edward—or how strong his were for me—our emotions were not enough to override the frustration and the fear that he was feeling. I was scared too, of course, but I think I had a lot more positivity coming my way about this than he did. His parents were understanding and supportive of course, but it seemed, at least to me, that everyone else in his life brought the opposite.

The whole thing was difficult for me, because I knew the strength of my feelings for Edward, and they had not diminished, even in light of his confession that early December day after my doctor's appointment, in Angie's Subs. The truth is that being scared was normal. Wanting nothing to do with it was normal. I knew had I not been the one pregnant, and the one stuck with the physical part of our decisions, I would have wanted to back out, too.

Edward wasn't a jerk for being scared. He wasn't a dirt bag for being overwhelmed, or for wanting a normal teenage life. I felt the same about all those things. What wasn't right was how he was acting, and how he was running away. Up until that appointment, we'd been meeting twice weekly to talk, to pray, to read the Bible together. Since our conversation, that had stopped. I continued my regular daily regimen, praying that Edward was doing the same. The only way either of us would survive any of this, was if we clung as close to Jesus as we could.

The day after my appointment, Edward had called me. I was in the middle of writing a paper, though what I really wanted to do was take a nap. Despite the fact that I was moving into my second trimester, the exhaustion hadn't left me. It could have been all the stress, too. And the fact that I'd walked the dog an extra mile that morning.

When I saw his name flash on my screen, I felt relieved for the break, not to mention hopeful at what the conversation would hold. I'd answered immediately.

"You actually answered." He sounded absolutely shocked, and I couldn't help but feel a tiny bit ashamed of my anger the previous day. I had been out of line. It didn't matter that he'd been, it hadn't been right of me to follow suit. I should have been more composed.

"I'm in the middle of a paper and really want a nap," I'd explained, "You're a welcome break from the tedium of the Civil War."

"Are you kidding me? The Civil War was awesome."

It was quiet for a minute. I lounged back in my computer chair, gazing down at my belly. I was definitely getting rounder. Reflexively, I brought my palm to my belly button, smoothing my hand over where I imagined the baby's back would be, its head. I knew it didn't have enough brain function yet to dream, but it was fun imagining it anyway.

Finally, Edward said, "Bella, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I was a jerk. I'm just… I'm scared, Bella. Really scared. I don't know what to do. It feels like… Everything was going really well, and suddenly the rug got yanked out from under my feet. I know you probably feel the same way."

"I'm… Doing my best to make the most of it. It really helps to pray."

"I'm not getting much response on that end," Edward admitted.

"Psalms says that God hears our prayer, he answers our plea, Edward. He hears you. That must comfort you a little bit." It felt good to encourage him, as if I was fulfilling some role in my life.

"I wish he'd tell me what was going on, what's going to happen…"

"I know," I said, "But you and I both know that God doesn't work that way most of the time. That's why we have to trust Him."

He was quiet again, and then, "Bella? I really am sorry."

"Edward?"

"What?"

"You need to stop apologizing or I'm going to hang up on you. I forgive you."

The sigh he unloaded on the other end was so heavy I was sure his shoulder had dropped three inches below his ears. "Bella, I… I really didn't mean most of what I said yesterday. I… Well, I mean, you know how I feel about you. And you know I care about the baby. It's… Just a lot harder for me, because I can't bond with it like you can. But I… I realize that you need me to be there, and that I need to take responsibility for this. I just… I need to figure some things out. Some… space is what I guess I'm asking for."

"Space is good. Have some space. Sort some things out."

"You're okay with that?"

"It's a far better cry than you saying you want nothing to do with us." I couldn't help but laugh a little. His revision of speech had lifted a fifty-pound weight off my chest.

After that conversation, I felt a whole lot better about Edward was saying. It made much more sense than him saying he wanted completely out. Space was normal. Space was needed.

That next weekend at church Jake had approached me after the service and asked how my doctor's appointment had gone. He asked to see a picture of the baby when I told him I'd gotten an ultrasound, and seemed much more excited than was normal for a male teenager. Still, it encouraged me to see someone else so excited about the little human that was growing inside me.

It was noon on Christmas Eve when he showed up on my doorstep in a funky, tasseled hat, holding a gift in his hands, perfectly wrapped, no doubt, by his mom.

"Jake!" I said, surprised as I pulled open the door to reveal him standing there. "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you two a gift, obviously," he said, his eyes crinkling in the corner as he smiled hugely. There was a silver SUV idling on the curb and I peeked around his elbow at it.

"Is your mom waiting for you?" I asked, waving in the SUV's direction. I didn't have a clear enough view to see if they intercepted it or not.

"Yeah," Jake said, stepping through the doorway, into my foyer, "So you better open this quick."

Hesitantly, I took it from him. "What is it?" I asked.

Jake nudged me with his shoulder and said, "I can't tell you that. Now open it."

I did, obediently, tearing the paper carefully. Underneath the paper was a shiny white box, and I used my nail to slice through the tape that held it shut. Flipping up the flap, I found a baby blanket inside, bright blue and adorned with rockets and ships and planets.

"Oh, Jake, that's great!" I enthused, "Thank you!"

He grinned again, and pointed at the box. "Lift the blanket up. Your gift is in there, too." I did so, peeking under the corner of the blanket. A menagerie of chocolate bars was arranged on the floor of the box. More than I could eat all at once, I'm sure.

"Jacob Black! I do not need that much chocolate!"

He laughed a coughing, almost puppy-like laugh and said. "You're preggo, Bella! Of course you do."

I laughed. "Do not call me preggo. That's weird." Then I leaned in to hug him, having to stretch up on my tiptoes to wrap my arm around his neck to hug him, balancing the gift on my other arm. "Thank you, Jake. I really appreciate this."

"No problem, Bella. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jake," I said, watching him tromp back down my front steps and toward the SUV that was waiting for him.

**Edward**

Ever since the conversation I had with Bella the day after the appointment, I'd felt a lot better about my decision. I just needed space, that was right. Some time to think things through. Figure things out. Figure out what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go.

The fact that it was the Christmas holidays could have been a factor in reducing my stress level. Today, though, emotions were running high. It was Christmas Eve, and every year my mom threw a huge party. It never failed to stress her any less, no matter how many times we'd done it—probably since before I was born.

I was put on decoration duty, which just seemed to insane to me, because our house was already as decorated as could be. I was outside, putting up lawn ornaments. A herd of reindeer, with a red nosed one in the center, a sleigh, and penguins. I honestly thought it was a little over the top, but who was going to question my mom?

She was inside cooking, and my dad was at the airport picking up Alice for her winter break. I couldn't wait to see my sister. It had been too long. She hadn't been able to make it home for Thanksgiving, and so it was a bigger deal that she was coming home today.

Once I was finished with the lawn ornaments, I headed inside where my mom ordered me to string more lights. She looked a little harried, rushing around the kitchen in her apron, with her hair pinned to the back of her head with a big black clip.

"Hey, Mom," I said, and she stopped to look at me, a pile of dishes in her hands. "Merry Christmas."

She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face and summoned a smile. "Merry Christmas, Edward," she replied.

**Bella**

It was dark when we pulled onto the Cullens' street for the Christmas party. I was sitting in the backseat, hands on my belly, nervous beyond what I'd expected. It hadn't occurred to me that a couple weeks of separation between Edward and I would cause so much nervousness.

From down the street, I could see that their driveway was already full of cars, and the front yard looked like a winter wonderland, absolutely _packed_ with lighted ornaments. We parked down the street. I grabbed the apple pie we'd brought off the seat beside me and we made our way up to the door.

Before we'd even made our way all the way up onto the porch, the door swung open, and a tiny little thing with jet black pixie hair appeared in the doorway. I knew immediately that it was Alice.

"Hi, guys! Merry Christmas!" she enthused, reaching to hug first my mom, then Phil, and finally me. "And hello to you, too, little baby," she cooed to my rounded belly. This was Alice, not scared or deterred by anything. It had of course occurred to me that she would know about the pregnancy, but what surprised me was how easy going she seemed about it.

Alice took the pie off my hands and took it into the kitchen. My parents and I stepped into the foyer.

"Can I take your coats?" I heard a familiar voice say, and I turned to see Edward holding out his hand. He wore a sweater that almost exactly matched the green of his eyes. He was smiling, which seemed weird to me until I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him smile. We'd both been so serious lately.

With that in mind, I smiled brightly back at him and said, "Sure," as I peeled mine off and handed it over. He took Phil's, and my mom's and disappeared into the crowd somewhere.

.

It was as typical a Christmas party as you could imagine, with tons of food, music and laughter. Alice stuck by my side for most of the night, which I was thankful for. Edward kept darting in and out of rooms, so I hadn't really had the opportunity to have any sort of conversation with him yet.

"So how far along are you?" Alice asked me, when we'd found a quiet corner in the living room, out of the way by the fireplace.

"Fifteen weeks tomorrow," I told her, and in Alice's presence, there wasn't any shame or apprehension about what I was sharing with her. It felt… good to have someone I could just _talk_ to. Rosalie hadn't been talking to me much, and I knew it was probably because she was busy with school—she'd been involved in so many extra curricular, as long as I could remember. It was easy to see how she'd get busy, and lose track of when she'd talked to me last. It was also easy to assume that our lives were just going separate ways and to assume that things just weren't the same anywhere. "It's going so fast," I said to Alice, "It's crazy to think that by Valentine's Day I'll be more than halfway through."

Alice took a sip of the holiday punch she was holding. "Yeah, that's crazy. Are you… Have you and Edward talked much about your choices?"

Why did everyone keep using that word? I hesitated for a moment, trying to choose my words carefully. I didn't want to just assume or anything, because we honestly hadn't had a frank discussion about it. "I think the plan is to keep it. My parents are pretty supportive about me staying at home for the first little while."

"And… Edward's okay with that?"

I shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. He hasn't… He's taken some space lately so honestly I don't really know where he'll be by the time the baby comes." By the time my speech came to an end, my tone had diminished distinctly. If I hadn't run myself into a brick wall of reality just then, I don't know what would have drilled it in more securely.


	10. A Step Forward

**Edward**

The memory of the first kiss shared between Bella and I is something that's been sticking in my mind lately, and I can't seem to shake it. It seems each time I try to sort one thing out in my life, or move on to something else, I keep coming back to her, whether it be in my subconscious or not.

_We were on some youth retreat, a weekend getaway at a local summer camp, closed down for the fall, but rented out to our church for the weekend. I went every year, but it was Bella's first year going. She'd grown up as a Christian her entire life, but had never felt any desire to participate in things like that, she'd told me, until she met me in high school youth group. She was friends with a couple of the girls in the group, but I found she hung out with me a lot more often. It wasn't that we felt the connection we'd later share from the very beginning. We started off as friends, the best way possible to start off. _

_ But everything changed that Saturday night at the tenth grade youth retreat. We played Bible Smugglers, where us kids were divided into groups and then ran all around the dark camp with flashlights and Bibles, pretending to smuggle them into other countries while the leaders interrogated us at every corner. _

_ We'd been crossing a field, huddled as a group when a couple of youth leaders—a few of the younger guys, late twenties—called out to us._

_ "Hey, where are you going?!" they'd shouted, and in the heat of the moment, we'd all taken off running. Somehow Bella and I got separated from the rest of the group, ducking into a grove of trees, while the rest of them took off across the field, the other way. Unthinkingly, I'd grabbed her hand as we ran, ducking through trees, both of us laughing hysterically. _

_ We found ourselves in a little clearing, the moon shining bright on the grass and the bark of the trees around us. It reflected off Bella's face and her eyes, making her look exotic and beautiful. My heart had caught in my throat, and I was suddenly nervous. _

_ My palms were really sweaty, and I wiped them on the backs of my jeans. _

_ Bella stared at me, those eyes quiet and calm, completely serene. She wasn't smiling anymore, the sudden seriousness of this moment catching the both of us off guard._

_ We were standing close, closer than friends would stand, just staring at each other. One of my hands came up, slowly, to cradle her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, just momentarily. I still remember the weight of her, leaning into my hand. _

_ "Bella," I'd whispered, and those eyes found mine again, hazy and out of focus. _

_ We'd leaned toward each other so subtly, so gradually. The moment was completely tender, and as our lips—_

I bolt completely upright in bed, heart pounding out of my chest.

"Whoa," I gasped, "where did that come from?"

I needed to cool off. I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck, and I threw the sheets off of my body, climbing out of bed and going over to the window, cracking it slightly to let in the breeze, to clear my head.

It had been nearly a month since Bella and I had last had a real conversation. Both Christmas and New Years had passed. School started again on Monday. It seemed life was moving on without me, whether I was ready or not.

A lot of things had been going through my mind lately. Things that I was seriously battling. On one hand, I'd enjoyed the time I'd had with my friends and other people from school. I'd had fun hanging out with Matt and Garrett, and though Sadie and I hadn't gotten back together, I liked hanging out with her, too. There were no obligations, no responsibilities, and maybe that was why I liked it so much. But at the same time, I just couldn't stop thinking about Bella. I knew whatever lay between us was hanging on a thread. I was the one who'd left it there, and it was _my_ responsibility to resume whatever was going on. It wasn't a relationship. Bella and I weren't together. As of late, it had seemed more like a… partnership. Would either of us ever overcome our own complications to actually brave being together?

I moved back over to my bed and picked up my phone from where it rested on my bedside table, plugged into the wall, charging. As I unlocked it, light flooded my eyes, nearly blinding me. I blinked a couple times and scrolled through my messages until I found our most recent conversation, from the morning of her twelve-week doctor's appointment. I'd included a smiley face in my response, letting her know I was excited for that appointment, though I remember vividly just how sick to my stomach I felt.

I thought about composing a text in that moment, but all I was coming up with was a blank. Where would I even start? I couldn't render a coherent thought. I'd been reading my Bible, and working a lot on that part of things. I felt torn, and I knew what the right thing was to do. I wanted to show Bella that I could be the man she needed, the man both she _and_ the baby needed. The thought petrified me. It would take a lot of work, and even more prayer.

_God, help me be brave_, I requested silently, _Help me be the man Bella really needs me to be._

I closed my eyes, the image of our first kiss coming again and again, like a skipping filmstrip.

**Bella**

"Have you heard from Edward lately?" I was set up on the couch, going through some schoolwork when my mom spoke from the doorway. I jumped, not having expected her voice and in response I felt a little nudge from inside me.

_Hi, baby_. Each time I'd felt the baby move—which had been a total of three times, all occurring this week—I slipped into a sort of mesmerized trance mode for a second.

"No," I finally answered, "Not yet."

My mom moved further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of one of the sofas. "Maybe you should try talking to him. It's been a month, Bells."

I stared at the screen of my laptop, the word document filled with script not computing in my head at that moment. "I don't want to disturb him," I muttered. "It's… His call."

"Bella," my mom said, scooting toward me until she could touch my hand, "It's not a crime to ask for an explanation. He's had plenty of time to figure things out. I think you two need to talk."

"W—"

"He's been holding back an awful long time, Bella," she said, "I think there's probably something more going on that he's not telling you."

"He's just scared, Mom," I insisted, though that same thought had crossed my mind a multitude of times.

"Bella, there's being nervous, and then there's not wanting to be involved. You two need to figure this out for the sake of your relationship."

I sighed. I knew.

.

I called Edward the next day. The first time he didn't answer, and I didn't leave a message. I didn't know where I'd even start if I had to leave him a message. The second time I called him, he was in the middle of class, his voice subdued, asking if everything was alright. The apprehension in his voice made my heart tug. He really did seem to care. I asked him to call me back when he was done school for the day.

At 3:01 exactly, my phone rang, and I answered before the first trill finished.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual but than smacking myself internally. I was supposed to be serious; this was supposed to be a real, down-to-earth conversation.

"Hi. How's it going?"

"I'm good. You? How was your New Years?"

"It was good. I'm good."

I hesitated for a moment and then said, "It's… Been awhile since we last talked."

I heard a smack on other end of the line and imagined Edward with his palm to his forehead. "I know. I'm… Really sorry about that. My "space time" has been inexcusable. I… I want to make it up to you."

"Make it up to me?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "Do you… I mean… Will you go to dinner with me this Friday? I'll pick you up."

I was so caught off guard by his request that I didn't know what to say. I was literally speechless. This was coming from out of nowhere. And what did it mean? Did it mean he wanted to be involved with the pregnancy and the baby? Did it mean his feelings for me were still as strong as they'd been before we broke up?

"Um… Is that a no?"

"No! No, sorry!" I stuttered. "I just, um… Was caught off guard. I… I don't understand. Does this mean you want to be involved with the baby?"

Then it was his turn to be quiet.

"Edward?" I said when he was quiet for over thirty seconds. I pulled my phone away from my ear to check the screen. It was so quiet I wondered if we'd lost our connection.

"I'm here. I, uh… I want to discuss a few things at dinner."

"Ah, so it's a business meeting." I meant for it to come out as a joke, but my tone held no humor. He didn't laugh either. The water I'd been drinking all afternoon froze a sheet of ice in my stomach.

.

Friday couldn't come soon enough, and the week dragged. I couldn't figure out what Edward wanted to talk about at dinner, but it sounded like he was eager to meet with me, sending me a text on Thursday evening, including a smiley face, telling me he was excited to see me.

Friday afternoon finally came, and I took care to shower thoroughly, to shave, and style my hair with extra care, to hold my hand extra still as I lined my eyes. I wore a simple pair of black maternity pants, a gray top and a thicker red cardigan over top. I didn't know how cool it would be in the restaurant, but a sweater was a safe bet. I was always freezing by the end of a night out if I didn't bring one.

I was pulling on a pair of socks in my bay window, when I saw Edward's Volvo pull into the driveway. The baby kicked me so suddenly I was sure it could sense its father was near. But then, it could always be the fact that my heart was suddenly racing. The strength of my excitement surprised me. You would think I would be a little more cautious regarding this meeting.

Downstairs, I heard the doorbell ring, and a moment later, Phil opened the door, letting Edward inside.

"Bella! Edward's here!"

"Coming!" I called, rushing to gather the things I needed for my purse, a little clutch with a long strap so I could sling it all the way across my body.

Checking my reflection once more, noting that my cheeks were significantly more flushed than they had been previous to Edward's arrival, I ducked out of my bedroom, and down the stairs.

Edward was waiting at the door, talking to my dad with an ease I hadn't seen about him for… Half a year, it seemed.

"Hey," he said when he saw me, his eyes bright.

"Hi," I replied, unable to resist a smile of my own when I saw him grin.

As I pulled on my shoes, my dad said, "You two have fun. Stay out of trouble."

I snorted as I straightened and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "Right, Dad. We're going to go playing chicken in the streets. We'll be safe."

.

Edward took me to some place I'd never been before; it was fancy. There were water and wine glasses on the table; the silverware was wrapped in cloth napkins.

The hostess, in a tiny little black dress, led us to a table in the corner. Edward pulled out my chair for me and I slipped in, smiling timidly at him in thanks.

We ordered our drinks and then busied ourselves with our menus. Edward decided what he wanted right away, whereas the waiter had to come back twice for me. Part of it was that I was so distracted trying to figure out what Edward wanted to discuss. Another part was that I'd become extremely picky over the course of my pregnancy, and though my aversions to smells and tastes had passed, along with the morning sickness, a long time ago, certain things definitely looked better than others.

I finally decided on the hand rolled gnocchi, and snapped my menu shut. Once the waiter took those away and we were left alone, the itch of my desire to know what the topic of the evening was became unbearable.

I folded my arms on the table in front of me, leaning toward Edward, watching the emotion play across his eyes. Despite his quiet demeanor, he seemed… Happy, I suppose. A little fidgety, but when was Edward not fidgety lately?

"So," I started, reaching over to take a sip of my chocolate milk—yes, the inner child in me was coming out—before I continued, "What do you want to talk about?"

Edward placed one elbow on the table, glancing out over the restaurant. "Oh, I think that conversation can wait for the next leg of our journey."

I couldn't help but laugh, feeling a little giddy with the proximity of Edward, after such a long time. The baby was kicking like crazy, too, which added to the joy I felt. "So our date is now a journey?"

He smirked. "I guess it is." He paused to sip his Cola and then said, "So how are things going? How's school?"

"Um, school is fine. I did pretty well on my first exams. If I keep up my pace, I'll be able to graduate in May."

"That's great," he said, and it really looked like he meant it. Could this be the beginning of what I'd been waiting for, of what I'd been hoping for since the news of my pregnancy became concrete? That Edward would be involved, happy, _with_ me?

"Yeah, it really is. How are things going with you? How did your exams go?"

"They were good," he said, nodding, "I got an A on my Calculus exam, which I was shocked about. I didn't think I knew my stuff so well…"

We fell into easy conversation, and our food seemed to come in no time. The way we passed the time just made it slip on by.

We ate, and passed on dessert. Edward, of course, footed the bill. He didn't let me look at it, which confirmed my suspicions that we'd come into a restaurant much more tasteful than I was used to.

Back in the vehicle, Edward turned the other way, headed away from my house instead of toward it. This ride, much like the one we'd taken to Angie's Subs at the beginning of December, was quiet.

As Edward pulled up to the beach, nearly to the sand, I noted how magnificent the sand and water looked in the moonlight. He put the Volvo in park and glanced over at me.

"Is this our next leg of the journey?" I asked jokingly.

He smiled as he wiggled the keys out of the ignition. "Sure is, lady." My heart jumped a little. He hadn't called me 'lady' in forever. It was, I supposed, one of his terms of endearment. I personally, liked it.

Edward popped open his door and swung his legs out. He leaned over, and it took me a minute to figure out that he was removing his socks and shoes.

"Would you like to join me for a walk on the beach this evening, Miss. Bella?" he proposed over his shoulder.

It was unseasonably warm for January in Jacksonville, and so I didn't resist. I took off my own shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor of the vehicle. He took his keys and locked the Volvo behind us, then slipped them into his pocket. We headed up the beach, pants rolled up. When he reached for my hand, I didn't resist.

He was quiet for the first few yards. I decided that I'd give him time to bring up the topic when he wanted to. By the way he walked and how he kept taking in breaths, I knew he wanted to say something, but kept hesitating.

I wished he'd just speak.

Finally, "Bella?"

"Yeah?" I glanced up at his face, but found him looking out toward the dark, choppy waves.

"I… I don't deserve the patience you've had with me… I've been a jerk. And I know I don't deserve it, but…" He looked at me then, his eyes melting with sincerity, "Is it too late to ask for a second chance?"

I wasn't so sure about what he meant by that, but I said, breathy and low, "Sure… Everybody deserves a second chance."

He ran his fingers through his hair, wreaking havoc in its previous order. "I… I know I haven't been very involved with… With the baby, but… I'm starting to think that I want to be, I…" His eyes, for the first time, flickered and rested on the swell of my belly. He continued to speak as he laid a hand over my bump, his fingers splaying nearly the entire surface. "I want to be the man that you two need me to be. I care about you, Bella, and I… Want to be there for you. I want to be responsible, I want to go back to the beginning, to before I was a jerk, when I was willing and excited. I'm… Still pretty scared, but I'm making a commitment to you now. I want you, and I want this."

Tears, which seemed to come easier and easier each week, rose in my eyes. As he leaned in to kiss me, I didn't share with him the thoughts that had been coming into my mind over the past month we'd been apart. I didn't share with him the fears I was having. I just let myself feel for now. His hands were warm on my belly, and his lips slightly cool on mine. I didn't come up for air.


	11. Love Him

**Bella**

As whatever had come back together between Edward and I grew, so did my friendship with Jacob Black, and though my feelings for Jake were purely platonic, I couldn't help but compare the two of them sometimes. Was I sacrificing too many things in my relationship with Edward just because of the way I felt for him? He rarely asked about the baby, though he'd said he wanted to be involved, and when he did it caught me out of left field; whereas Jacob asked every day how I was feeling, how the baby was feeling. He asked to feel my belly all the time, where Edward had only touched it once, and his touch had been apprehensive somehow, as if he wasn't sure he really wanted his hands there, or something. Jacob asked to see pictures of it all the time, and the only thing Edward had to say when he saw our baby on the screen was, "Huh. Cool."

It had been beyond difficult to be able to trust Edward like this again, to let my feelings for him show, to open my heart to him. What was more difficult was to act in our relationship how I really wanted, how I was learning one should act in a relationship. Not with all the touchy-feely, lovey, gooey sentiments like you saw in the movies and on TV, but with real love; the kind of love that God wants us to have for our spouses, and our boyfriends and our girlfriends. I'd been doing my very best to love him in a way that was self-sacrificing, that was patient, and kind, but I felt like I was only digging a deeper hole, where I was trying to fill one in. I didn't want a typical teenage relationship. I wanted something that would last, something concrete and predictable, for the baby, and maybe for me. I wanted to trust Edward with all of my soul, to love him with all of my soul, but all I really felt like I was doing was trapping him, over and over again.

He never complained about it, not once. He never voiced wanting to stay after school with his buddies to watch the football team practice, he never let on that he was missing out on all the parties that his friends were having—though he'd never been much of a partier in the first place. Still, all of this felt wrong, somehow.

The first people I approached about my blooming concerns had been my parents. They'd been open to hearing what I had to say, and supportive in the decision it felt like I was coming to make in a roundabout way. The more I talked about it, the more it seemed like it was the decision God would have me make.

Everything in me screamed, my heart especially, not to do it, that there had to be another way, without sacrifice.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," I'd told them over dinner one night, as I took a second serving of the spinach salad I'd helped my mom make. "I feel like I've got him in chains. This isn't how a God honoring relationship should feel... It feels... So unbelievably selfish." As I finished my sentence I looked up into my mom's face. She sat directly across from me and was taking a sip from her wine glass. "Love shouldn't feel like this," I said, in nearly a whisper.

"So what are you thinking?" Phil finally asked. He wasn't half finished his dinner, but he had his elbows on the table, hands fisted under his chin, intent on only me, it seemed; our conversation taking first priority. He'd been so good with me. After his initial explosion at the discovery of my pregnancy, he'd really taken to a gentle kindness I'd rarely seen in him. There was something there, some God thing moving in him that inspired me, and honored me. Because of my situation, his heart was changing. As a result, he'd been more concerned, more interested, in the things that were going on. He asked about doctor's appointments, and offered up car seat reviews. He was always asking me how I was feeling, not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually, too, about the entire thing. I felt really blessed.

I took a bite of the salad and chewed. Shaking my head, I said, "I don't know. Everything inside me is screaming at me that this is normal, and it's okay. But... I don't think it is. I only want to do what God would have me do, and right now... I'm having a hard time hearing what He's saying."

"Honey, both of you are making big sacrifices for this baby," my mom said, "It's important that you both feel no apprehension or hostility in making those sacrifices. Is that what you're worried about? That you've somehow made him sacrifice his next year, and that it's going to come back and bite you?"

I was shaking my head before she even finished her sentence. "That's what complicates it so much, Mom. I think Edward doesn't have a clue about the sacrifices he's making. He thinks he loves me, Mom. But I don't think he's seeing things accurately, or me for that matter. That's what has me so concerned."

"So, how are you going to change that?"

I took a breath. "That's what I'm trying to figure out... I just..." I paused to look both my parents in the eye, "I need to know that his love for me is real, as real as I want mine to be for him."

The next person I talked to was Pastor Luke. He listened with the same sincerity as my parents had, with the same openness in his face. His advice had been slightly more useful.

"Sometimes," he had started, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, "our view of things gets distorted by how we look at them. Sometimes we're standing too close to the picture to see the beauty of the picture as a whole. Sometimes we need to take a step back in order to be able to see the entire thing, in a better frame."

I was paying more attention in church, reading my Bible three times a day, praying every hour. Every night, before falling asleep, it seemed I got the same answer from God; a soft whisper that soothed across my soul seemed to echo, Love him… I was only beginning to understand what that would mean. And, in turn, how hard it would be for me.


	12. Surprise

**Edward**

"I hear you're back together with this girl." Tanya's tone was even, un-angered. She spoke from behind me, where I was filling my bottle at the fountain.

"Uh," I hesitated, straightening and turning to look at her, "Is that what you've been hearing?" She had all of her hair pulled over one shoulder. It seemed extra shiny. Something new had bloomed between Tanya and I in the time Bella and I had been apart. Not necessarily a romantic thing, but there was something in me that would be forever in debt to Tanya. She'd helped me map out some things when I wasn't in the right mindset to do it for myself. I was thankful for that.

"I'm happy for you," she said. She stood so casually, with her bag over her shoulder, that I believed her. It was easy for me to accept that things just hadn't worked out between us. I wondered if it was as easy for her. She didn't have someone else that made her feel like her world was on fire. Did that make it harder to move on from a former relationship?

"Thanks, Tanya," I said, patting her on the shoulder as I passed and headed down the hall, toward my Phys Ed class.

.

One of the things I was thankful for in being back with Bella was how she'd convinced me to start attending church again. Not so much the youth group, but I was going to Sunday services with my parents again. Most of the time, Bella attended too. She said she liked our church more than the one in Jacksonville. She said the one 'back home' felt more like a production every weekend. Which made sense. Jacksonville was much bigger than Middleburg.

As I came back into my relationship with Jesus Christ, things in life just started to make sense, decisions came easier. Things were working out. It was surprisingly easy to tell the Florida State University that my plans had changed for the coming year.

I'd begun to work at the local Hardware shop. It was a job, to say the least. Not something I loved or strived to stay in forever, but I was making money and that felt good. It felt good to know that when the baby came, I'd be able to provide for it and Bella.

I hadn't told her yet, but I knew she would be happy about the decision I'd made for us.

I felt like the possibility of Bella and I overcoming this bump along the way was going to be easier than I had originally thought. I just had to rely on God. That's all He'd asked of me in the beginning. It didn't take me long to realize that it wasn't going to work any other way way.

.

It was unusually quiet when I walked through the door on Friday after school.

"Hello?" I called out, slipping my backpack strap off my shoulder. Where was everybody? It was Friday, and my dad only worked till noon on Fridays. He was always around. My mom could have been at some appointment or another, but usually she was home at this time, too. Dropping my bag by the door, I moved into the kitchen. It hummed in silence, the granite counter tops wiped clean, the fruit bowl sitting in the center of the island holding a lone banana and a couple leftover apples.

I moved toward it and picked up an apple, rubbing it off on my shirt before taking a bite. I continued on through the house, stopping in the office. No one was there, either. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened for any sound on the second level. I stood there for a solid minute and heard nothing.

Maybe they were outside? I continued on to the back of the house and pulled open the back door, stepping out onto the patio.

Immediately, I was barraged by a crowd of people so huge, I dropped my apple.

"Surprise!" they yelled, and then, "Happy birthday!"

I spotted my parents coming through the crowd and, laughing, said, "What is this?"

My mom grinned, pecking me on the cheek and said, "We knew you wouldn't want to do anything for you birthday, so we took matters into our own hands! Were you surprised?"

"Very!" I said, scanning the now mingling crowds for faces I recognized. Most of them I did, aunts and uncles, neighbors, and people from church. But I was looking for one face in particular.

I could smell Barbeque now, and see the lay on the table, including the gigantic cake in the center. My mother was nothing if not a thorough party planner.

Finally I spotted her, over by the garden, sitting on a bench next to one of my parents' friends' daughters from church. They were chatting away, but I approached them anyway.

'"Hey!" I called out, and both Bella and Lisa glanced up at my approach.

"Happy birthday!" Lisa called out in greeting, and Bella smiled.

"Thank you," I said, leaning over to kiss Bella on the cheek. She seemed… Stiff, somehow, though I tried not to dwell on it. Maybe she was still uneasy about sharing our renewed relationship with the public.

Lisa started up an easy conversation that included us all.

.

It was later, and the sun had set. My mom brought out the citronella candles, and surprising amounts of people were still hanging around.

Burgers had been eaten, and cake consumed. Someone somewhere was playing the guitar, a low strumming, aimless. I was on the search for Bella. At first I didn't recognize her because she'd donned a heather grey hooded sweatshirt. It stretched tight over her stomach, and her hands rested on either side.

"Hey," I said, touching her on the shoulder. She was standing in a circle of people, more listening to the conversation than she was really involved. She glanced back at me, her face sort of pinched. "You okay?"

She nodded.

"Come for a little walk with me," I requested, reaching down for her hand. It was clutching tighter on her belly than I'd originally thought it had been, and it alarmed me a little, but I tried to ignore it. "I have something I want to tell you."

She came willingly enough, though she seemed a little hesitant, a little out of it. Again I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was.

We moved to the edge of the yard, where the gazebo was, and ducked under the tent. I eased her onto one of the padded benches, taking a seat beside her.

"This was great," I started, "I was so surprised."

She mustered a smile. "Good," she said. She sounded a little breathless.

I paused. If I had to guess, it looked like she was in pain. "Bell, are you sure you're okay?" I asked, "You look… Like you're in pain or something."

She waved a hand in the air. "I've been… Cramping a little lately, and they're more painful tonight, but… I'm fine." She shifted her body so she was facing me more directly and laid a hand on my knee. "Now, what were you going to tell me?"

I grinned. "Well, first I want to thank you for how amazing you've been. I'm so thankful that we got back together. I'm so thankful that you convinced me to start going to church again. My relationship with Christ has really been growing stronger, and I can give you a lot of credit for that. He's… He's showing me things and helping me do things that I didn't think I could do by myself. I mean, I guess I'm not doing them by myself. He's helping me for sure… I've made a decision."

"About what?" she asked, and I saw a shadow drop over her face, a hesitation I wasn't so sure I liked. It was easy to see why she might feel apprehensive. I'd given her barely any opportunities to trust me. That would start to change, though. It already had.

"I've decided against going to college next year. So that I can work and provide for you and the baby when it comes."

"_What_?" she said, and the shock in her tone overshadowed any other emotion so much, I couldn't tell whether it was joy or humbleness.

"I'm in love with you, Bella. And it's been hard, but I want to do everything I can to—"

"_No_," she said and was shaking her head, "No. Edward, you can't do that. You have to call them back and tell them you're going to college in the Fall."

"Bella, you don't understand," I said, gripping her hands. "I _want_ to do this. I want to do this for you."

She was shaking her head again. "Edward…" She said, but she was panting again. She paused, bowing her head, hands slipping out of mine to go back to her belly. She moaned so quietly I wasn't sure I'd heard her right.

"Are you okay?" I'd asked for the fifth time in that hour.

Finally, she drew a breath and said, "I think something's wrong. I'll be right back." She stood with no small amount of struggle. I was on my feet in a millisecond, following her into the house.

"Bella, what's going on?" I demanded, really nervous now. She looked like she was in a lot of pain.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," she said, but the way she was walking made me think that she was in more pain than she was really letting on. She closed the door.

"Bella," I called, knocking on the door, panic crowding in now, blocking out logic, "Let me in."

There was a moment of silence, and then a choked, "Edward."

"What? What is it?" I asked with more urgency, this time jiggling the doorknob. From inside, I heard her begin to cry. "Bella, let me in! What's going on?"

"Edward, I need you to take me to the hospital," she said, "I'm bleeding."


	13. Letting Go

**Bella**

My parents met us in triage, where I'd already taken a urine sample and had been hooked up to the monitors that measured the baby's heart rate and confirmed that I'd been contracting for a few days now. The nurse checked my cervix and told me that I was dilated one centimeter.

My mom stayed in the little makeshift curtained room with me, her chair set up right by my bed. My dad hung out on the edges, checking and rechecking his phone. The Cullens were somewhere out in the hospital. I had told Edward that I didn't want him in the room with me. Not now, not yet.

I knew where this whole thing was coming from, and I was kicking myself for it. But more than anything, I was terrified that they wouldn't be able to stop the contractions, and that the baby was going to come, and we would lose it. The stress of that, on top of the stress of what had led me here, was too much to handle. The only way to remedy it for the moment was to keep Edward away. I knew then that we needed to talk. I couldn't handle this stress. I needed to tell him what was going on.

But first, we needed to get my contractions under control.

"That one really hurts," I whispered to my mom, cupping my hands under my belly, trying to relax, trying to breathe through it. I'd told myself it would be easy to breathe through the contractions, to relax, because my body would know what it was doing. It was harder to relax now, to breathe slowly, to rest the muscles in my body and let it do whatever it was doing, because it didn't know what it was doing. This wasn't right, and these contractions needed to stop. That was what made it all the more painful.

The nurse reentered the room and strode immediately over to the machine, lifting and examining the print-out patterns of contractions. "Okay," she murmured, glancing at both my mom and I over the paper, "Your contractions are getting stronger, and that worries me. I've consulted with the on-call doctor, and he thinks it best, in your current situation, to do three doses of an injection called Terbutaline. We'll give you an injection every twenty minutes, three times over, and that should relax your uterus and stop the contractions." I was nodding immediately, reaching for the consent papers. I barely listened to the side effects—nervousness, shaking, dizziness, quickened heartbeat in both myself and the baby. If it was going to stop the baby from coming at thirty-four weeks, I was going to take the shot.

We only waited a few minutes before she brought the first injection in and inserted the needle into my left arm, pushing the plunger down. "Now you'll feel a little burn—"

I gasped and chomped down on my lip, biting back a yelp at the suddenness of it. It felt like there was fire in my veins. But I gritted my teeth and bore it, knowing that this would help, this would stop the contractions. This would save my baby.

.

Between the burning injections, I attempted to fathom how I would even begin to talk to Edward about the decision I had made. It hadn't been long since it became concrete, the decision. What had confirmed it had been _this_. It was clear to me now, that things needed to change, that somehow, someway, I needed to separate myself from Edward, and the stress his uncertainty and my indecisiveness was bringing on.

I didn't have my Bible with me, so I settled for the next best thing: my devotional app on my phone. Opening it, I came to that day's date and opened it to the PM devotional. What I read there drilled into my heart the certainty and the confidence in what I needed to do, for the sake of my sanity, for the sake of this baby's life, at least in this moment.

Galatians 5:16 read as followed: _"So I say, let the Holy Spirit guide your lives. Then you won't be doing what your sinful nature craves."_ Underneath was the devotional the author had written, outlining a few key ways to understand whether or not one would know when the Holy Spirit was leading them. It talked about being open to guidance, rather than being closed off to it; it talked about being ready to obey whatever the Spirit guided one to do, even if it was outside our comfort zone; and lastly, it talked about knowing the difference between our emotions and the Holy Spirit's promptings.

Hadn't I been following what my sinful nature craved this entire time? Hadn't I been exceedingly selfish in letting myself come back into a relationship with Edward, ignoring my instincts and the truths that resonated routinely throughout my heart, ignoring them repeatedly? The truths that said this was not what real love looked like—not like this. Real love wasn't someone ignoring their feelings, pretending to trust their partner even when they didn't, knowing there was a better way, but being too scared to make an effort to live it.

If I had been unsure about any part of this new development in decision making, there was no doubt now about what I needed to do. Not only for the benefit of mine and the baby's physical health, but I knew that in doing this, Edward's true intentions would be made known. I would know, in time of course, whether his love for me was real or not.

.

It took the next two shots of Terbutaline and nearly an hour of monitoring after that for me to gather the courage to let Edward into the room. I sent Phil to go get him from the hospital waiting room.

My mom squeezed my hand. "You're telling him, aren't you?" she asked.

I could only nod, the knot in my throat too tight to speak around. It would have to loosen by the time Edward walked in, if I wanted to say anything at all.

She didn't say another word, only leaned over to kiss me on the cheek, and then she was gone, too.

There was a momentous beat of silence, so loud, a crescendo of anticipation in my ears, and then Edward stepped into the room, his eyes wide.

"Hi," he said, "How are things?"

I swallowed back the knot, forcing it down into my stomach where I knew it would make me sick later. I smoothed my hands across the sheet sitting over my lap and said, "Things are fine now. They gave me some shots, and the contractions have stopped. They're going to discharge me soon."

Edward nodded, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. It stood up on end. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "That's good," he said, "Really good." He looked back at me, as if looking for confirmation.

I nodded. "They don't think it will happen again if I keep my stress levels down."

It was Edward's turn to nod, and he moved over to the chair in which my mom had been sitting all night. It was nearly two in the morning. Everyone had to be exhausted, but I think the adrenaline was still running too high in all of our bloodstreams to feel any effects of it so far.

"So that's what they think caused all of this?" Edward asked, "Stress?"

I shrugged, forcing myself to forge on, to inch closer to the topic I so dreaded breaching. "A couple other factors, too, but they think stress was the main one."

"That's surprising to me," Edward admitted, "I didn't think you were that stressed." He extended a hand to touch mine, to take mine, but as he laid it over my fingers, I smiled a tight-lipped smile and slipped my hand out from underneath. I couldn't touch him right now. I just couldn't.

Something changed in his face, in his expression, a confusion, an offence. I would have felt guilty at witnessing this, if I didn't know my next words would hurt him more, at least for a little while.

"Edward," I said, "We have to talk about something."

"Okay," he said, his tone hesitant. He knew something was up.

"I…" I began, and felt that knot rising up into my throat again, this time bringing with it tears. Why was this so hard? Why did this feel so wrong? "I need to let you go. This… I thought we could…"

"Bell," he breathed, taking advantage of the stilt in my words.

"Let me talk," I begged, forcing myself to look him in the eye so he'd know I was serious, "Please."

Edward nodded, leaning back in his seat, away from me, though everything else in his body language was screaming to be closer. His eyes were dark.

"I need to let you go," I started again. "Neither of us deserves this, what we're going through. I don't deserve to feel like I'm doing everything wrong, keeping you here. I don't deserve to ignore feelings I'm having, strong other feelings… You don't deserve to have to give up everything for me."

"I—"

I held up a hand, and that was enough to stop him talking. "Edward, you may not realize it, but right now… You're not seeing me accurately. You need to take a step back, because you're not seeing the whole picture. You think you love me—"

"Bella, I _do_ love you—"

"—because I'm in a vulnerable situation. You think you need to protect me. You may not see it, Edward, but that's the way it is. Your love for me isn't real—"

"That's ridiculous!" he exploded, standing so suddenly he knocked the chair over backward in his sudden fury. "It's real and the both of us know that! How else do I have to prove it to you?"

Somehow, I continued, calm, my tone even: "I'm going to go away, Edward. You'll get the life you've always deserved. You can graduate with your friends in a few weeks and go to Prom without having to worry about the baby or me. I'm cutting you loose, Edward. You're free to live life the way you know you want to. You can call your college back and tell them you're going for the Fall semester. You can be free to fall in love for _real_, without the obligation of a baby and a pregnancy neither of us could have planned…"

I could see tears rising in his eyes then, and I couldn't fight the ones that clouded my own vision, though I tried to bite them back.

"Bella, please don't do this," he begged, and he came to me, dropping to his knees, reaching for my hands.

"It's for the best," I said, pushing on though I didn't see a purpose anymore. What was the point of this conversation anyway?

"No. _No_! It's _not_ for the best, Bella!" He released my hands and cursed, rising. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"I do, Edward. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"You _don't_!" He kicked the already overturned chair and cursed again, running both his hands through his hair. "This is ridiculous! What do you think-you-I mean…" He trailed off, his fragmented sentence stumbling to a close. He was breathing hard, and for a minute I was scared. This wasn't the Edward I knew.

I watched his shoulders heave for a few minutes, his back turned to me. Everything in me yearned to get up from the bed and go to him, wrap my arms around his waist, to kiss him, to tell him that I loved him. Because I did. I did love him. So much. Too much. That was the reason I was doing this, _because_ I loved him. Why couldn't he see that? I was letting him go free.

He spun suddenly toward me. "I'm going to give you some time to think. But don't you dare believe I'm giving up on you, Bella. I won't. I can't." And just as abruptly, he stormed out of the room.


	14. Moving On

**Edward**

I didn't know where to go after that night in the hospital. I drove aimlessly through town for an hour before I went to Tanya's house and parked out front. I knew she had to be sleeping, but when I killed the ignition and glanced up toward her bedroom window, I saw that her light was on. Gratefully, I pulled out my phone to text her. Two minutes hadn't passed before she was coming out her front door, pulling a sweater on over her sleeping tank, padding down the front walk toward me in her bare feet.

I unlocked the passenger door and she climbed in beside me, her whole body turned toward me, eyes wide with what looked like genuine concern.

"What happened?" she demanded immediately. Her hair was tied up on top of her head in a messy bun, her face clean and free of makeup. In the halo of the street light, she looked beautiful.

I shook my head, trying to compose my thoughts. "I'm sorry for waking you—"

"I wasn't sleeping," she excused, "I was up working on a paper. Couldn't sleep."

"It's…" Again, I shook my head. Where was I even supposed to start?

Tanya reached over and touched my arm. "Edward," she said, "Do you want to come inside? I can make us some… Hot chocolate or something?"

I laughed shortly at her hospitality—something I hadn't expected in the least, from Tanya especially. But I nodded and pulled the keys out of the ignition. We walked up to the door together. I let her past, through the entry first.

"Head on upstairs," she whispered, nudging me toward the stairs. "I'll be right up."

I obeyed her orders, and headed up the staircase, turning the corner toward her familiar bedroom. It was the only door open in the hallway, the warm light spilling out onto the carpet of the hallway. I stepped inside and shut the door almost all the way, noting that her bed was made. Either she'd made it before she'd set herself up at her computer, or she hadn't been to bed yet. How was that possible? It was three in the morning.

I took a seat on the end of her bed, but then after a moment, scooted back to settle against the wall, resting my head against it and closing my eyes. The occurrence of the past couple of hours had my blood humming in my ears. How had everything gotten so out of control so quickly? Just when I had decided to sacrifice things for her, just when I'd made a solid decision, she had to go and change her mind.

_Why, God?_ I found myself asking, angry. _Why did You let this happen to me?_

I stayed that way until Tanya returned with two matching mugs of steaming hot chocolate. She nudged the door shut behind her with her foot. It clicked quietly in the otherwise silence of her house.

She came to me, tucking her leg under her as she passed me one of the mugs. I took a sip and burned my throat. The drink was still too hot, and I winced. Tanya cradled hers close to her stomach, watching me, waiting for me to speak. What was she supposed to say? Why was I even here? Tanya could do nothing to help me.

"I shouldn't have come," I said, and I could hear the shame in my tone.

"No, I'm glad you came," she insisted. There was another minute of silence and then again she asked, "Edward, what happened?"

I sighed. "Bella… Had some preterm labor going on. So I took her to the hospital." I looked at her face, noting the panic in her eyes, and was touched by it. "Everything's okay. They got everything under control, but then…" I noticed my fist was clenched too tightly around the mug's handle, and I forced myself to relax. "Bella just broke things off. She says that she's going to… Go away, and that I don't have to worry about her or the baby anymore…" I shook my head, angry again, "It doesn't make any sense."

Tanya was quiet for another minute. "I'm sorry," she said, "You seem really hurt…"

"I am."

"I don't… Know what to say," she said then and I sighed in response, shrugging my shoulders.

"There's not much you can say," I admitted, "I just… Needed someone to vent to. I knew you'd… Maybe understand."

She mustered a small smile. "It sucks when things don't work out, hey?"

I nodded.

Tanya leaned over to set her mug on her bedside table and then took mine from my hands and did the same. I didn't care. I wasn't thirsty anyway. Then she leaned over and rested her head on my chest, looping her arms around my neck.

"I really am sorry, Edward," she whispered.

She smelled clean and fresh, floral, not at all like Bella's usual fruity, strawberry scent. I closed my eyes and breathed it in, one of my hands going to the middle of her back, pressing her closer. A lot had happened between Tanya and me in the past few months, but I couldn't deny that we were still friends through the whole thing. I owed her some credit for that.

Eventually, we lay down, and I fell asleep with my head on her stomach. When I woke, my cheeks were sticky, as if I'd been crying in my sleep, and the sun was coming up. Carefully I lifted my head, glancing up at Tanya's face. It was slack, relaxed, her eyes shut. Her breathing was even, deep, and I knew she'd finally found sleep in my presence as well.

I shifted slowly from the mattress so that I wouldn't disturb her and then crossed to her desk to find a notepad and a pen.

_Thank you_,I wrote, and left the note next to the bed, with the hot chocolates. Then I left.

**Bella**

I moped around the house for two days before Jacob came calling. I knew my wallowing was ridiculous. I was the only who'd imposed all of this on myself, I knew what would happen, and I also knew I couldn't hang on to these negative feelings. I knew in the depths of my heart that this was what God wanted for my life, at least for now. Maybe one day we'd find our way back to each other, Edward and I. But not right now.

I thought these things, but I still found myself choking up at random intervals, second-guessing my decisions, wanting so badly just to text him and tell him I'd changed my mind. It seemed I was constantly praying for stability, to just stay where I was, stand my ground.

So I was thankful when Jacob showed up at the door on Sunday evening.

"How's it going?" he asked, kicking at the doorjamb. Jake had been the one I texted the day after the hospital stay and spilled my guts to. He'd been the one I'd told everything to, the one I shared my regrets, my triumphs, and my doubts with. I didn't know if he'd understand where I was coming from, but it felt good to share with him either way. Now, as he stood in the doorway to my home, I could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

"Jake," I said, reaching out to touch his arm. "Thank you."

He looked up, those dark eyes finding mine. It was hard to believe he was only a junior, a whole year younger than me. He was so wise, so strong for a boy his age… "For what?"

"For being such a spectacular friend. For caring about me so much. It's… I appreciate it a lot, Jacob."

That playful, boyish grin found its way to his lips again and he said, "Aw, Bells. It's nothin'. You're my friend, that's what friends do."

I smiled. "Well, I still appreciate it so much."

He nodded.

"So," I said, skipping to the next topic, "Why'd you come over?"

"I'm kidnapping you," Jacob said, folding his arms over his chest, appearing totally serious in the way he straightened his face.

"Oh, really?" I asked, laughing. "What for?"

He lost his composure, coughing his signature laugh. "I'm just kidding," he admitted, waving a hand in the air. "The youth group is all meeting at the theatre to see that new movie tonight at seven." I glanced at my phone. It was just after six. "I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

"Oh, I…" I began to say, but trailed off and took a breath. "Sure," I said, changing my mind. It would do me good to get out and have some fun with friends. Moping around my house, regretting the decision I'd made about Edward wasn't going to do me any good at all. If I was going to move on with life, this was one of the steps I needed to take. Especially before I got holed up in the house with a little baby for months. "Just give me a minute to change," I requested, and moved up the stairs as quickly as my growing belly would allow. I changed my sweat pants for a pair of dark wash maternity jeans, threw on some makeup and ballet flats and then hurried back down to the main level to join Jacob.

"Ready?" he asked upon siting me again.

"Ready," I confirmed, hitching my purse over my shoulder and texting my parents on the way out. They were both away from the house that evening, and as I grew closer and closer to my eighteenth birthday, a few weeks now, I'd noticed they had begun to treat me more and more as an adult, something I was happy for.

.

Jacob dropped me off at home just after ten, after taking a detour to get milkshakes. I still sipped on mine as I waved goodbye and headed up the driveway to my front door. This was the time of night when the baby moved most, and with the addition of the cold sweetness of the milkshake, I felt like it was trying to make a breakout. Either way, it made me giddy.

I pushed through the front door and slipped out of my shoes, moving toward the stairs to head to my bedroom. I was just mounting the first step when the office door off the kitchen opened and my mom poked her head out.

"Hey," she said, "How was the movie?"

"It was good," I answered, pausing and turning to look at her. "I thought you two would be in bed already."

"We just got off the phone with my cousin Lana," my mom told me, "Do you want to come in here and discuss a few things with us? Just for a quick minute."

I nodded, dismounting the staircase and following her into Phil's home office. He was sitting behind the desk, clicking around on his computer. When I entered, he stood and moved around to the side of the desk.

"What's going on?" I asked, slipping into a chair by the door. I took another sip from the milkshake.

"I know we've been discussing a few different things regarding after the baby comes," my mom began, perching on the edge of the desk, close to my step dad, but facing me.

"Right," I said, nodding, "Like me moving away. Does Lana have anything to do with this?"

Phil and my mom exchanged a look. "We know you don't know her very well," my mom said to me, "But she and her husband are very nice people. They have a baby on the way as well and said they wouldn't mind another crier in the house. They have a walk out basement suite with a separate kitchen and two bedrooms, and they would love for you to go and stay with them."

I took a minute to process. This was what I wanted to do. I wanted to disappear, to let Edward live a life of his own, and not be weighed down with the burden of knowing I was living forty-five minutes away. He wouldn't have to worry about visiting us, he could just go on with college and his chance to fall in love with someone he didn't have to be responsible and strong and completely self-sacrificing for. I couldn't deny that the thought of this happening didn't make my heart ache, though, because it did.

Part of me was absolutely shocked that he hadn't been to visit yet, to push the fact that he hadn't planned on going anywhere. Maybe he'd taken my advice. Maybe he really was moving on.

"Wow," I finally said to my parents, "That's… Awesome."

"They live in Tallahassee. That's less than a three-hour drive from here. It's not so far that you couldn't come home on holidays or even weekends."

"Florida State has really good college programs, even online and night class options if you want," Phil added.

I nodded, taking it all in. The more they said, the better an idea it sounded like. Scary and daring, and braver a step than I ever thought I was capable of, but a good idea.

"Lana said I could come and stay with you for a couple months in the beginning," my mom said, "to help you get settled in and everything."

"Great," I said.

"How do you feel about all of this?" my dad asked, gazing at me. "If you're uncomfortable with it, you don't have to go, but we know you've been discussing moving a lot and starting your own life with your baby, to get away from Edward to give him chances in life you don't think he'd take if you stayed…"

"Yeah," I said, "No, I think it's a great idea. I love it."

.

It was strange packing up boxes while, at the same time, preparing for the arrival of something so huge: the arrival of my child. As I crouched to tape a box closed—mostly filled with baby things, as these were the things that would most easily be shipped and least missed—the baby wiggled inside me. I sighed, pressing a hand to the side of my belly.

My birthday was less than a week away, and two weeks after that the baby would most likely have arrived, though I was hoping they decided to come sooner rather than later. Pregnancy was starting to get uncomfortable. Mostly it was the sheer size I'd grown to. It was impossible, I thought, to be so big. It was hot, too, and I was constantly sweating, no matter how cool I kept myself.

The other thing that had filled my mind in the inane act of packing—which left a lot of room for thinking—was the fact that Edward had not yet tried to contact me. In a way it broke my heart, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore those thoughts and feelings, I just couldn't let them be. I was still so in love with Edward. This decision had been one of the hardest I'd ever had to make in my short lifetime, and the depth of its cut wouldn't seem to fade. It kept stinging, over and over.


	15. Happy Birthday, Dear Renesmee

**Bella**

I kept my eighteenth birthday reception relatively low-key. Just a family dinner at one of the local restaurants. One of the reasons was that I didn't want to risk word of it getting to Edward, and have had him show up, despite my constant pining after him. The other reason was that I'd been contracting since Wednesday morning and really didn't feel up to anything exciting.

At that moment, I watched Rosalie come through the door to the restaurant, her gaze raking the tables. It had been a pretty recent occurrence, the reigniting of our friendship. Only a couple weeks ago had we started talking again. We'd met up for coffee—though I drank an iced herbal tea—and she'd apologized for her absence. She told me that the whole thing had honestly freaked her out, and she just didn't know what to say or do. I understood, really. If she'd been the one to fall pregnant instead of me, I probably would have been tempted to do the same thing. When you're best friends with somebody, it has a way of linking your reputation to theirs, whether it's in a good way or a bad way. I knew that my reputation around school probably wasn't in the good books this year. If I was just some easy seventeen-year-old knock up, what was Rosalie in comparison to me?

We talked for a few hours, and two days later we met up again at the mall. It was an easy assimilation back into our friendship, like nothing had ever stopped. There really weren't any hard feelings. I had nothing against Rosalie and she had nothing against me.

"Happy birthday!" she shrieked now and made her way across the restaurant to our growing table. Though we were sitting in the far corner, my party still took up the majority of the restaurant.

"Thanks!" I responded, standing so that she could wrap her arms around me. As she did, pain, nearly crippling, bolted it's way through my lower back like lightning. I held onto her a moment longer in order to compose myself and regain my balance before pulling back.

"This is for you," she said, her exuberance in no way hidden, as she held out a little ivory box. Wrapped around it was a pretty lavender colored ribbon and I untied it and pulled the lid off. Carefully I tipped the box to shake out the smaller jewelry box inside. Inside was a pretty silver necklace with an elaborate pendant encasing a gem—a beautiful purplish red color in the dim lighting of our surroundings.

"Wow, Rose. It's gorgeous," I said, glancing up at her, pulling my eyes away from the beautiful piece of jewelry.

"It's called an Alexandrite?" she said, reaching over to finger the pendant. "June has three different birthstones, but I thought that was the prettiest one of all. It changes to green in the daylight."

"Wow," I breathed. "You really didn't have to," I insisted, instinctively leaning in to hug her again.

"Well," she said, slightly breathless at the strength of my embrace, "It wasn't all me. It's kind of a linked present from my parents too. They wish you a happy birthday."

I smiled, unsettled emotion rising in my eyes. Gosh, would I ever stop crying at the drop of a hat? "Help me?" I asked, holding out the clasp to Rosalie so I could distract myself. She clipped it into place around my neck and I watched the gem settle against my collarbone. I turned around to hug her once again. "It's so beautiful," I whispered.

"Now you'll always be reminded of how beautiful June is," Rosalie grinned. "Both yours and your baby's birthday."

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, and lowered myself back into my seat, unable to say much else, for I was having another contraction. Not all together painful, but uncomfortable enough that I had to concentrate on breathing. I glanced at the time on my phone and wondered, idly, if my baby and I would very nearly share a birthday.

.

Dinner went later than I would have expected, and by the time we got home, it was nearly eleven.

"I'm exhausted," I said as we all slipped through the front door.

"How are you feeling?" my mom asked, reaching out to touch my elbow as I headed toward the staircase. I thought about it for a minute and shrugged.

"The contractions haven't gotten any worse, but my back's killing me. I'm going to just head to bed and get some sleep."

She nodded after me as I started up the staircase and reminded me to use the pregnancy body pillow to support my back. Right, Mom. Like I forgot.

I went through the motions of getting ready for sleep more slowly than usual, as the pain in my back really was quite debilitating. It wasn't something that was necessarily new to me, back pain. I'd experienced it quite a lot throughout the pregnancy, but tonight it hurt more than it ever had before, and I wondered if it was something more. What was it called—back labor?

I decided, as I knotted my hair on top of my head, and began to wash my face, that I would do my best to get some sleep tonight and wait for my thirty-seven week checkup in the morning. It was early—nine o' clock, I think. So even if I was in labor, that amount of time couldn't make too much of a difference, could it? Only if they were building in intensity and getting closer together was I supposed to be concerned, right? And it didn't seem that either were happening right now.

I flossed and brushed, and rinsed with mouthwash for good measure. Once all that was done, I climbed into a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt that miraculously still fit over my bump. I turned on some gentle music, shoved the pillow between my legs, lay down on my left side and squeezed my eyes shut, determined to get some sleep.

.

It wasn't much later that I woke. When I glanced at the clock, I realized I'd only been sleeping for an hour or so. But when I shifted, ever so slightly, I realized with a clanging bell of clarity what had woken me. Aside from the fact that I was in excruciating pain, my bed sheets were soaked. And not just the sweat kind of soaked.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered out loud, slowly moving into a sitting position. As I did, I felt a warm gush, and I was afraid to stand. I thought about calling out to my mom, but the embarrassment stopped me. It could have been possible that I'd peed the bed too, right?

_Right, Bella. You peed the bed._

I knew, in all reality, that it was my water that had broken, but something in me kept shoving it to the back of my mind. There was a wall of hesitation there, and I didn't quite know why.

I didn't have much time to think about it, because right then a spasm shot through my back and I gasped at the intensity of the pain, reaching back with both hands in attempts to massage the spot. It felt like the pain was wedged underneath my tailbone, though, wedged so far in that I couldn't reach it.

_Shower_, I thought, pushing myself to stand, _Hot water_. I went to turn it on, and then stripped out of my sopping shorts and slightly drier t-shirt. I didn't bother pulling the sheets off my bed just yet. The only thing registering in my mind in that moment was: _Hot water._

I stepped under the spray, positioning the showerhead so that it was aimed right at my lower back. The relief wasn't instant, but it was a far cry better than sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to massage the pain away. I planted my palms on the shower wall in front of me and hung my head, feeling the stretch from my neck all the way to the middle of my spine.

_Is this it?_ I thought, breathing slowly through my nose. _Is this really it?_

I guess I wasn't really scared at this point. I knew what was coming. I knew it was going to hurt—that wasn't what I was worried about. What had me anxious was after the fact. But then, I reminded myself, I'd have my parents to rely on. My mom would be coming to live with me. I'd have more support than I could imagine. I already _had_ that support.

Thinking of Rosalie and her family, I reached up to fiddle with the pendant around my neck. I knew her family was praying—that really was the best thing they could do for me.

_Thank you God,_ I thought to pray, _For the people praying for me, and all the people supporting me. Bless them._

For the first time since dinner, I felt that familiar, breathless tightening in my front. What wasn't familiar was the intense pain that came with it. My first instinct was to clench my teeth and grimace, but then I reminded myself that I needed to relax. That my body knew what it was doing.

So I released the tension from my shoulders and separated my feet a little, shoulder width apart. Then I breathed, slowly in and out, until the pain faded. When it did, the pressure in my back intensified again, and my eyebrows came together. Instinctively, I reached back to massage the unreachable place with my hands again. That's when I had an image so clear it was almost like he was right there with me: Edward, standing behind me. His hands on my back, offering the counter pressure I needed, just perfect. He wouldn't have minded the temperature of the water, or the spray in his face. He would have just been happy to be there for me, helping me.

My eyes flashed open and instantly tears clouded my vision. Why couldn't he be here?

_Oh, right, stupid,_ I chided myself, _because you sent him away._

I hung my head again, fighting back the choking feeling in the bottom of my throat.

.

It was only when the water started to get cold that I decided I should get out of the shower. I'd counted out four contractions in the time I'd been in the shower, but had no way of knowing how often they were coming or how long a time they were lasting for. I had no idea how long I'd even been in the shower until I checked my phone and saw that my mom had texted me half an hour ago.

_"Are you ok?"_

I picked up my phone and texted her back, explaining that I'd thought my water had broken, that I was sure I was having pretty bad back labor, and that I'd had four contractions in the time I'd been in the shower.

Instantaneously, she was standing outside my bedroom door, knocking. "Bella?"

"Hold on," I called, yanking my bathrobe over my otherwise naked body. I moved toward the door as quickly as I could, though my pregnancy waddle was more pronounced than it had ever been. It could have been due to the absolute insane pressure I felt down there. Was the baby moving down that fast?

Her first question, when I pulled open the door was, "How long are the contractions lasting?"

I told her I didn't know, that I hadn't been timing them. But in the middle of that, I had to stop, because another one was starting, more painful than the other three combined, but I shut my eyes and breathed the same way I'd done with the other four.

_My body knows what it's doing, my body knows what it's doing—it was created to do this._

When the pain faded and my vision cleared, I looked up at my mom.

"Were you having a contraction that whole time?" she asked.

I nodded. "From the second I closed my eyes."

She glanced over at my bedside clock. "Okay, that was over a minute," she said, "Have you texted Dr. Kyle yet?"

"No," I said. I went back into the bathroom to retrieve my phone and relayed the same information I'd told my mother. While I waited for her to reply, I went back into my room to get dressed, pulling on some underwear, a pair of yoga pants—who cared that the seams showed through?—a nursing bra, a tank top. I made it all the way through this process before another contraction hit and I groaned, gripping the open top dresser drawer for support. I think I managed to tell my mom I was having another one, and then I focused on breathing. Dimly, I heard my phone ding, notifying me that Dr. Kyle had replied to my message, but I ignored it.

"Can I check it?" my mom whispered.

I nodded.

Behind my back I heard her move around a bit, and as yet another contraction faded, I looked up.

"She wants us to head to the hospital," she told me.

"Okay," I said on an exhale and went to the closet to get the bags, the nursing pillow. That was the only thing I carried. Immediately my mom was taking the suitcase and diaper bag from me. I noticed that she was still in her jeans and top from dinner.

As we headed down the stairs and toward the garage, I asked her if she'd been to bed.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I just knew," she said, passing me a sideways grin, "I knew the baby was coming tonight."

.

The contractions came closer together in the car, though they didn't really build in intensity. Already I was exhausted. How was I going to make it through even another hour of this? The fact that my back labor had started back up the minute I sat down again wasn't helping either.

We got checked into the hospital with impressive speed, and were showed to our room. All I wanted to do was walk. I flat out refused the wheelchair they really recommended I sit in, and as a result, our short trek down the hall lasted a little longer than usual.

I was gowned and checked and told I was already at four and a half centimeters.

"Really?" I said to the nurse as she removed her gloves.

"Yep." She nodded. "Your body knows what it's doing, that's for sure."

I couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped. She had no idea she'd just spoken my motto out loud. The laughing did nothing for my back, though. For a while I had my mom try counter pressure while I sat straddling a chair at the end of the bed. I wished we had brought an exercise ball, but I'd been embarrassed by the whole notion of carrying it in with us.

Finally I insisted that her hands weren't helping—and not to be offended, mine hadn't either—and that I needed to get in the shower. Luckily I'd thought to bring a swimsuit, though I only wore the top.

The relief was more instantaneous than the last time I'd stepped under the spray. I stayed under the bath of the shower for—it had to be—an hour. A nurse showed up again and voiced her concern that I would burn my back, I had the temperature of the water raised so high. But it was the only thing that would help.

The contractions came and went, and though I'd thought I'd settled into a nice co-habitation with them an hour ago, the rate they were building intensity at had me moaning louder and louder each time, and clenching up more and more. I had known it would hurt, but not that it would hurt _this bad._

.

The nurses finally convinced me to take a break from the heat of the shower so they could check the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler and check my cervix to see if I'd dilated anymore. _If I'd dilated anymore?!_

They confirmed that I was at six and a half centimeters—an impressive rate for a first pregnancy, they noted. They told me that baby's heartbeat was nice and strong. For the first time in a long time, when I heard that train-like _thump-thump-thump_ of my baby's heartbeat, I relaxed, and I remembered.

"Edward," I said.

"What?" one of the nurses asked, looking up, but I was only looking at my mom.

"Is he here?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "I didn't even tell him you're in labor. I didn't know if you'd—"

"I need my phone," I interrupted her and reached out to her, for I was otherwise a little occupied at that particular moment. My mom handed it to me. It had been so long since Edward and I had had a conversation that I had to compose an entirely new one. I rarely deleted conversations, but with Edward I apparently had.

_"I just thought you'd want to know that I'm in labor_" was all I sent before a contraction hit me. I'd planned to send him a subsequent text explaining what had happened up until now but that didn't end up happening.

I rolled onto my side, moaning and resting a hand over the side of my belly. The contraction lasted so long I was sure I could have slept through part of it. When it ended, and I went to sit up, another one came again, and despite all the times I'd told myself to relax, I clenched my entire body against it.

"What did you do?" I somehow hissed at the nurse through my contractions.

"We're gonna get a baby out before four a.m., I promise," she said, from somewhere across the room.

"What does that mean?" I heard my mom ask.

"I just stretched you a little sweetheart," the nurse said to me, "Everyone on the ward says I have magic fingers. We'll get that baby out in no time."

"What?" I seethed, more upset at the fact than I probably should have been. "I said no interventions!" It was a miracle, really, that I was talking through the contraction. It felt like my butt was going to fall out, and a very uncomfortable stretchy feeling made me want to scream.

I didn't hear what she said, because all of the sudden I was gagging. Someone made it with a waste bin just in time for me to heave my birthday dinner into it.

I don't know if Edward ever texted me back, or if he would even come to the hospital, because things kind of just blurred together after that. The contractions had begun to piggyback all thanks to that nurse's brilliant stretching idea, which meant I got no break between them at all.

I puked two more times, which just added to the greatness of the experience.

I'd forgotten to pray up until the time where Dr. Kyle came in, confirming that I was complete and ready to push. I didn't feel ready to push.

They set me up on the bed anyway.

"Edward?" I heard myself say through the spinning chaos of the room, searching for my mother's face. "Is he here?"

"Not yet," I heard her say and finally found her. I dropped my head to the pillow behind my head, that same choking feeling I'd felt earlier welling up in me again. Why did I want him now?

"Okay, Bella! We've got this!" Dr. Kyle said, all set up. I found her at the foot of the bed. "Ready?"

"No," I think I whimpered, but then it was happening, and I was pushing and they were telling me I was a natural, and it had literally been thirty seconds and then the most beautiful noise filled the room. The piercing, screaming cry of my baby shattered my heart into a million pieces. How would I ever come together again?

"Congratulations!" Dr. Kyle said, "You have a beautiful daughter!"

And then she was on my chest, _screaming_ in my ear, and I was laughing and crying at the same time, amazed that she was finally here. _She_ was here.

"A girl!" I cried, arms coming up to automatically cradle her. "Hello! Hi! Oh wow, you're so beautiful." She screamed again, arms striking out as the nurses came to dry her, and to simultaneously pull down my gown so she could come skin to skin. They fit a cap over her head, and tucked the towel around her slightly, and I just held her to me for a minute. She was quiet then, but I could hear her snuffled breathing against my neck. The moment was suddenly so peaceful that I felt I could only whisper. Anything else would disturb it too much.

"Happy birthday, Renesmee."


	16. Bittersweet

**Edward**

The text message I received from Bella informing she was in labor came to me at nearly four in the morning, and it woke me immediately. I couldn't have been too far under—text messages usually didn't get to me until the next morning, after I'd woken up. Either that, or something in my sub-consciousness had been preparing for this very moment.

So when I started awake, jolting out of sleep so suddenly, I knew it had to be Bella who had texted me.

_"I just thought you'd want to know that I'm in labor_"_"_ is what it said, and I wondered if she was still at home, or if she was at the hospital already. I had no reference of time in which this would happen. I only hoped that she would let me know. And a deeper part of me hoped with more conviction that she would invite me to the hospital, to witness the birth of our child. I hoped with so much sincerity for this part that there was suddenly a nest of bees buzzing in my stomach; setting me on edge with an excitement and a nervousness I hadn't felt since nine months ago. I wanted to be there.

I responded, asking her if she wanted me to come over, or was she at the hospital already? But I never got a reply and for the next hour I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone in my lap, praying, because praying was the only thing I knew how to do in those long, dragging moments.

Five o' clock came, and the sky began to change. Not quite getting lighter, but the moon was moving, beginning to say its goodnights, making room for the glorious sunshine. I pulled on a shirt, the chill from the breeze coming in through my open window finally registering with me. When a half an hour after that passed with no word from Bella, I decided to go downstairs and maybe start the coffee. There was no way I was going to fall back asleep now. I wished she'd respond; let me know what was going on. With searing need, I realized I wanted to be there for her, she deserved my presence. _I_ deserved to be there, to see the result in all we'd worked for.

_You worked for nothing, you coward_, a cruel, jibing voice in the back of my head accused me. It was true, I realized as I descended to the main level, the tile of the entryway cold on my bare feet as I crossed to the kitchen. Who was I to think I deserved to witness something as special as the birth of a child when I'd done so little to contribute over the course of the pregnancy? Who did I think I was kidding? I didn't deserve to be there.

I flicked the stove light on and began to brew some coffee, the aroma basking the kitchen in its warmth. I went to sit at the table, phone still gripped in my fist.

_Text me back, Bella._

I was so lost in the severity of my thought that it startled me when I heard a subdued "Hey" from the doorway. I twisted in my seat to see Alice stepping through the door. She had on a pair of pajama pants and an oversized college sweatshirt.

"Sorry," she apologized, "Didn't mean to startle you."

"The college student sniffs out the coffee," I joked, turning back to gaze out the kitchen window, overlooking the side yard. The way the stove light shone, I could see the reflection of my sister moving over to the cupboard to grab two mugs. She poured us each half a cup and then brought the mugs to the table.

Placing one in front of me, she curled into the seat across from me. Her hair was all over the place, though she didn't try to tame it with the elastic looped around her left wrist. She took a sip of the coffee, gazing at me over the rim of the cup.

"Why are you up so early, crazy man?" she asked, her voice quiet in the dim emptiness of the house.

"Bella's in labor," I informed her and I watched her eyes widen. I gestured to my phone, which I'd finally abandoned at my elbow for the warm mug of coffee. "I'm waiting for her to text me back."

"Really!" Alice enthused. "Wow! Well, are you heading over there? Meeting her at the hospital?"

I shrugged. "I'm waiting on her," I reinforced, "I have no idea what's going on."

Alice took another sip of her coffee and smoothed a hand over the top of her hair, finally grimacing—seeming to notice the disarray it was in.

At that minute, my phone buzzed, making the both of us jump. Both she and I leaned instinctively toward the device to read what was the on the screen. The number was unfamiliar, but in the first sentence I was informed that it was Renee who was texting me.

_"The baby was born this morning at 4:04. Would you like to come meet her?"_

_Her._ I thought, even before the shock in the fact that I'd missed the entire thing, hit. I had a daughter. Bella and I, _we,_ had a daughter.

And then my heart dropped. "I missed it," I heard myself say, and my voice sounded empty and numb.

Distantly, I felt Alice's hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Edward."

Then I was standing, turning halfway to the door, and then completing the turn to face my sister again. "I have to… Go."

"Go," she encouraged, waving toward the door. "Go meet your daughter."

I was moving, as if on air, as if in a dream, toward the kitchen door, headed back upstairs to get dressed.

"Edward," Alice said, and I stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at her once more.

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

.

**Bella**

When I realized, an hour and a half after Renesmee's birth, that I hadn't told Edward she'd been born, I'd ordered my mother to text him. I'd been holding her since her birth—save for the time they'd gone to weigh her and take her other measurements. Everything else was done in my arms, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. This was where she belonged: with me, right next to me, her heart against my heart. It was amazing to me that at one point, she and I had been one, shared one body, shared one life. Now we were separate. She was her own, even in these mere hours of life she'd already developed an identity. Of course she was still _mine_, my daughter, our creation, but she was also her own little person, with her own beating heart and her own expanding lungs.

I was staring out the window across the room, watching the sunrise. This morning, it was like God was saying, "Watch this" as he painted the sky brilliant shades of cotton candy, magenta and lavender purple. So many times had I thanked him in the past two hours for this, for Renesmee, and yet it seemed like nothing would ever be enough to repay him for the gift he'd given me. The gift he'd given me not only in the ability to hold the precious life of my new daughter in my arms, but the fact that he held my life in his hands. I'd never been more thankful of the fact that he had my heart. I could only hope that some years down the road, Renesmee would surrender the same thing, to the only man on earth who would never leave her, never forsake her.

Now, I leaned down to kiss the top of her downy head. "Jesus loves you, Ness," I whispered to my sleeping daughter. The skin of her cheek was mashed against my chest, and though I was so exhausted I could have slept for a hundred years, I couldn't. I could only stare at her, and sometimes, cry. They weren't tears of sorrow or anxiety or fear though. They were tears of overwhelming gratitude, and a love so severe I was sure I'd never be the same again.

As I pulled away, she snorted in her sleep, and wiggled a bit. She slept curled against my body, a blanket draped over the both of us. She'd nursed once, and everyone said she was a pro, latching right away, good and secure. I wasn't surprised. I'd known what she was capable of the second I heard her birth cry.

I turned my attention back to the window, watching the sky even out into a brilliant blue. This coming day would be beautiful, no doubt about it.

There was a knock on the door then, and then it opened. "Bella?" a nurse said, another blank face in the crowd. I'd seen so many different faces in the past few hours I'd stopped trying to fit names to them. This nurse I hadn't seen yet, and I assumed the shift had switched over. She was peeking around the curtain that had been swung around the door since I'd gotten here.

"Yes?" I said, careful to keep the volume of my voice low, as to not wake Renesmee.

"You have a visitor? A young man—"

"Edward," I blurted, and felt my cheeks heat immediately at my show of exuberance. "Let him in. He's the father."

The nurse nodded and disappeared back out into the hallway. A moment later, I heard the door open again and Edward stepped into the room, around the partition. His eyes found me at once, our gazes fixing only momentarily, and then his gaze dropped to the sleeping baby on my chest.

"Hi," I whispered, and was intensely surprised at the kindness in my voice. I thought I would have been a little more hostile, or protective of Renesmee, for some reason. But I felt none of that in this moment, only the urge to have him near me.

"Hey," he croaked, and then cleared his throat. He looked at my mom, who sat quietly in a chair across the room, by the window. She had been reading a book, but looked up then to greet Edward.

"Hi, Edward," she said with a smile, "Congratulations."

He shuffled a little closer, though I could see he was hesitant, nervous.

"Come see," I urged, "Come see her."

With my permission, his hesitation seemed to disappear and he crossed the room to the bed, coming around to look at our daughter's face. I gave him a minute to process. I knew what this was like, seeing her for the first time. The shock, the pride, the love that would shatter your heart into a million jagged little pieces—but in the best way possible.

"Wow," he finally whispered.

"Do you want to hold her?" I asked, leaning forward to tip her off my chest into the cradle of my hands before he could respond. I'd thought to change into the nightgown I'd packed, so at least I was decent. I wrapped her haphazardly in the blanket that had been covering the both of us and held her out to him.

"Uh," he said, his hands coming out in a clumsy, strange sort of way.

"Here," I coached, setting her on top of his arms but not totally releasing her until he had her securely. "Support her head like this," I said as I settled it into the sloppy cradle his elbow made, "and then fold your other arm under her."

When I was satisfied that he had her, I let go and leaned back into the bed, watching him cradle our daughter. I was surprised at the way my heart chugged. It seemed to break and swell at the same time. Had this been such a good idea?

Her eyes opened then, and she stared right up into his face. I watched her blink a couple of times, clearly confused. In all reality, she probably couldn't even see straight. Who was he to her, this strange man, cradling her? Did she realize he was her daddy?

Edward kind of laughed and said, "Hi there." He looked over at me. "What's her name?"

"Renesmee Carlie Swan," I told him.

He looked back at her, swaying again and said, "Hey, Renesmee. Renesmee Carlie. Hi, Nessie girl…" She started to cry, just little sputtering whines. He backed into the rocking chair, lowering the both of them into it and began to rock her. He shushed her, kissing her forehead again. "It's okay, Nessie girl… I've got you," he murmured, "Daddy's here, I've got you…"

It hurt to watch them like this, to watch him try and soothe our daughter. I couldn't fight the rising tears in my eyes. Before Edward could look up at me, I swiped at my cheeks, clearing the tears away. They kept coming, though, I couldn't stop them.

When he looked up at me, I saw tears shining in his eyes, too.

"She's beautiful," he said, croaking again. I listened to him clear his throat. "She looks just like you, Bella."

I shook my head. "She has your nose, and your lips," I insisted.

Edward returned his gaze to her again, taking a long time to say anything else. A couple minutes passed, and miraculously, Renesmee slipped back into sleep.

He looked up at me again, his eyes still wet. "Thank you," he said, "Thank you for letting me meet her."

I had to swallow the brick in my throat. "You're welcome," I murmured, and thought at the end, _I'm so sorry._


	17. Twelve Months Later

12 Months Later…

**Bella**

It was absolutely insane to me to think that nearly a year had passed since the birth of my daughter. In so many ways she'd changed me, matured me, helped me to grow, to surpass the expectations I had of myself, to succeed in something greater than being simply a teenage mom. Renesmee had come to me a tiny little gift from God, a blessing in a baby. That morning in the hospital room, I would never have expected this past year, this growth, this amazing—though humble—new life I was living. Every smile, every laugh, made me laugh. The joy that she exuded produced a joy tenfold, exploding from my heart. Every time she cried, the need in me to make it better overwhelmed me. Who knew that the love of a mother could be so strong?

When Renesmee was born, I stayed at home for two weeks, recuperating until I felt recovered enough from the birth to travel to Tallahassee. My mom and I took the less than three-hour drive over together. The fact that she offered to drive was a lifesaver. That way, I was able to sit in the backseat with Renesmee and be with her, comfort her when she needed me, to simply hold her hand and sing to her.

Lana and her husband Adam greeted us with a warmth and openness I really hadn't expected. Who was I, really, to them, but a young tenant with more baggage than I could carry on my own? Lo and behold, they helped us move our things—Lana more or less helped with the organization aspect, being as huge and round as she was. They were friendly and conversational, though they also knew their boundaries and left us be most of the time. Lana visited more than Adam did, and every time she did, she made sure to knock on the door first before descending into my home. She never stayed too long, but never left without improving my day in some way or the other.

My mom stayed until Renesmee was two months old, and then we drove her to the airport and she flew home—we'd driven my car up. She hugged us both tightly and lingered. She cried. I knew it must have been hard for her, to leave us on our own like this, to leave me with so much responsibility on my shoulders, with a child, when I'd never gone anywhere before, I'd never been on my own. Strangely, I wasn't afraid. There was a courage thrumming deep within me, which could only have come from my faith in God, and I knew that I could do it. I told her this, and though it didn't seem to relieve her anxieties too much, it helped her to head off toward security.

Then it was just us.

Ness exceeded in her early development milestones, rolling over before she was three months old, sitting strongly on her own at four months—though I kept a pillow behind her until she was well into her fifth month. She was crawling soon after that and when she started walking at nine months, I realized that this child had more tenacity than I'd expected. She was busy and _always_ on the go, which didn't surprise me. I was usually like that too.

But now, right now, she was sleeping. The sound machine under her crib hummed through the baby monitor. The lullabies on her dresser had long ago stopped playing. It wasn't eleven in the morning yet. She'd sleep for another half hour at least. Which meant I was able to get some packing done, something I'd been meaning to do for the past week but hadn't started until last night.

I'd decided to have her first birthday back home, and we were taking the trip this evening. I didn't mind driving in the dark. In fact, something about it soothed me, was peaceful in a way. The empty roads, the moon lighting my path… I'd bathe Renesmee, put her in some pajamas and hopefully she'd sleep the entire way. Usually I didn't have a problem with her in the car. If we went anywhere that required a longer than twenty-minute commute, she'd pass right out.

I was packing only one suitcase, her umbrella stroller, and the playpen. We were staying for only four days. It would be nice to be home; it had been too long. The last time we'd visited had been at Christmas time. It surprised me how easy it had become to be self-reliable, to be a responsible, mature adult. I was barely nineteen. Most people my age would still be living at home, mooching off of their parents. I wondered, though, if it hadn't been for Renesmee, would I be doing the same thing? I remember how scared I'd been in the beginning—the thought of being responsible for anyone other than myself absolutely paralyzed me with terror. Now, I felt totally in my element, as if I was made to do this. In these moments I never failed to thank God for the ability he'd given me. It hadn't been without constant prayer, daily meditation and bible reading that I'd gotten to the place I was in. It hadn't been without the community and union in the church that I'd reached this state. It hadn't been without many a discussion, and quite a few frustrated and angry prayers. I wouldn't take back any of the struggle. It had led me here, and I was happy with where I was.

Well, not totally happy… A chamber of my heart was still empty, the edges still torn and ragged. Would anything ever fill its place? I knew what—or rather _who_—belonged there. I knew it when Nessie babbled "Mama, mama, mama" all day long and never "Dada, dada, dada". I knew it when she'd shy away from men on the streets, or in the supermarket. Old men, young men, men just trying to be friendly or comment on her bouncy pigtails. I knew it when she'd pause at the park to watch a father chase his daughter around the play apparatus, or push his son on the swing. She'd watch with a confusion and—did I just imagine it?—a longing that absolutely tore my heart to shreds. It was painful to see her so unfamiliar with the concept of a father. I wondered what that had to be like.

I wondered a lot about Edward. Where he was, where he'd been, what he was doing. Had he taken my offer? Gone to prom, gone to college, dated with the freedom I'd wanted him to have? Or had he stayed, frozen in the picture frame I'd left him in, shattered and broken hearted in the doorway of the hospital room, staring with such pain at our daughter, his daughter that he'd probably never see again?

Even now, at the memory of the expression on his face, I had to swallow back the dust that made me throat dry, that made my eyes sting with tears.

I suppose I'd gotten my answers. I'd wanted to know if his intentions were true, if his love for me had been real… It had been a year. More than enough time for him to find me, to reconnect. Was it hopelessness that made my knees so weak I had to lower myself onto the edge of my bed? Why did I feel so defeated? Hadn't I hoped for this?

I guess I'd expected that, by now, I would have started dating again, that my interest would have shifted. It didn't fail to surprise me that I hadn't been on a date—not because I thought I was the hottest thing on the planet and every guy would be begging for a date—but because I had met plenty of guys, in church, at work, at the library, the supermarket. But none of them seemed interested. Did I have a neon sign on my forehead that flashed 'Unavailable' in bright green?

"Mama." I glanced up toward the monitor across the room. Was she awake already? I checked the time. How had I been sitting on the edge of my bed for fifteen minutes and hadn't even noticed? "Mama," I heard Renesmee say with more urgency, and knew if I wasn't in there in ten seconds she'd start crying. She demanded a lot, that little one. So I stood, clicking off the monitor on the way out of my bedroom and into hers.

"Mama!" she squealed with a wholehearted contentedness when I swung the door open and flicked on the overhead light.

"Hi!" I responded, pulling myself out of my own musings and into the now, "Did you have a good nap?"

Nessie squealed and waved one of her hands in the air, the other gripping the edge of the crib to secure her self atop the mattress. Her hair, the same copper shade as Edward's but with my curl, was a haystack, as it usually was after a nap. I went to fold the blanket and hang it over the side of the crib and then pulled her up into my arms.

"Look at that hair!" I crowed, lifting one hand to ruffle it.

She snickered a five-toothed giggle and butted her head against my shoulder, snaking her little arms around my neck.

"Oh," I cooed, automatically squeezing her back, "Did you miss me?"

"Mama!" she cried again, leaning upright again just as quickly, so quickly she nearly clipped my jaw. It's a hazardous thing, being a mother.

"Should we change your diaper?" I suggested then, moving over to her changing table and laying her down. Immediately I plucked a book from the nearby pile and handed it to her. She hated diaper changes, but if you gave her a book—not a pacifier, a teether, a stuffed animal or any other toy—she'd get so distracted it was almost like breathing. "And then," I continued, "have a snack and play?"

Again, she squealed, pure joy my child and clapped her hands, not even minding the book that hit her in the chest and slipped onto the floor. "Pay!" she shouted, "Pay!"

It never failed to surprise me, the simple joy of children. How was it so easy for them? Just once I wish I could revert back to the lack of inhibitions I had as a child, to see the world through the eyes of my daughter. A world that was ever changing and growing, a world that was bright and new everyday and exciting. A world that didn't have any bad in it, and if bad was experienced, Mom would quickly make it go away with a kiss or a hug or a snack.

I sighed as I shifted her leggings back over her hips and pulled her up into my arms once more. If only…

.

True to my musings, Renesmee was out before we were out of town, slumped in her car seat, gripping her sippy cup in one hand. I'd tucked a blanket around her when I'd strapped her in, and glancing in the rear view now, she looked like an angel.

I was glad for this, for her slumber. It gave me time to think, time for myself. I turned up the music and lost myself in the thoughts about life that would always come for me again and again. The 'what if's, the 'if only's, the 'I wonder's…

And I drove, down that highway, heading home.


	18. The Birthday Card

**Bella**

Before I started any preparation for Renesmee's party—which would take place the next day—I knew I needed to talk to Edward.

I sat on the back porch for nearly an hour, just holding my phone in my lap, while Renesmee napped that afternoon, debating and going back and forth over whether I really wanted to do this or not.

The outlook on seeing Edward again equally terrified and thrilled me. It would be like a soothing balm to the tear in my soul, the tear that had been aching since the day he met our daughter. But it also made me think about the possibility that things could go wrong again. For I knew where they would go if we met, if we talked, if we even looked at each other again. We would fall head over heels for each other once more, there was no inkling of a doubt in my mind about that. But I also wondered about the possibility of it not working out. If we came together again, what would it do to Nessie, to have known her father, to have just started to make connections to him again, only for him to leave? I didn't want to hurt her like that.

I let the light summer breeze toy with the loose strands of hair that washed around my face, having escaped from the messy bun I'd thrown on top of my head. My hair—though I'd cut it before Renesmee was born—was growing out long again, and it tended to get in the way more often than not. Especially at Nessie's naptime feedings. I was happy to have been able to nurse her for so long. There was still that bond between us, that one thing that no one else could touch, that one thing that was just mine and hers.

I sighed, feeling that pang of guilt in my chest I always felt when I thought of the strength of the bond between my daughter and I, and the lack of the bond between Renesmee and Edward. I was totally responsible for having torn that bond from Edward's grasp, from the realm of possibility. It was my fault they didn't have something between them, it was my fault Edward was hurt, so hurt that he felt he needed to explain his side of things even though there was nothing for him to be remotely responsible for.

Breathing out, long and heavy, through my nose, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts, knowing he'd be there, knowing I never would have deleted him, even if I'd had the courage to try. Before I could think myself out of it, I called him.

I waited only the length of two and a half ringtones before he picked up.

"Hello?" I was right. Just the sound of his voice breathed across my aching heart like a healing agent. Though everything was still so out of order and so upside down, I felt myself relax, and I settled back into the patio seat.

"Hi," I replied, "It's me… Bella."

"Yeah," he said, and cleared his throat. "How… Are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"I've been… Alright." There was a pause, a hesitation on his end, as if he were cautious about crossing a line. Finally he asked, "How's Renesmee?"

I smiled, just a little. I couldn't resist. Just hearing him say her name made me realize that he hadn't forgotten, he hadn't left us totally. I could hear the love he had for her in his tone, and it made my heart swell. "She's good. Walking and almost talking. She's…" I had to pause to laugh, "She's stubborn."

Edward's answering laugh kept the smile on my face. "Just like her mom," he quipped.

"I'm not the one who was stubborn enough to insist, after an entire year, to see her again." Now, my tone was low, shy.

Edward didn't answer for a minute.

"You still there?" I felt the need to ask.

"Yeah," he murmured, "I'm here. I, uh… I miss you two."

_I miss you, too. So much._ "Her party is tomorrow at noon." I don't know what possessed me to invite him, but suddenly I felt the need to. "Here at the house. Just a barbeque in the backyard."

"Is that an invitation?"

I took a breath. "I guess it is." I'd surprised myself. I'd expected to at least meet him for coffee or something before I opened the door between him and our daughter again. I was putting all of my faith into him. I didn't know where he was at. I knew I'd struggled in the last year with my relationship with Christ. I knew I hadn't always been a woman of absolute strength. It would have been naïve of me to guess the alternative for him, especially because of how he'd acted in the pregnancy. How was I to know he hadn't totally given up on it? How was I to remotely guess what he was doing these days? Whether he was going to school, whether he was dating other girls, whether he was even still available?

But he said, "I'll be there," with so much conviction, it made me have to doubt the negatives.

.

"I invited Edward to Nessie's party tomorrow."

These words I finally confessed to my mom and Rosalie, at five minutes to midnight that same day. We were all stationed at separate counters in the kitchen. I was standing by the sink, my back to the rest of the room, frosting cupcakes, so I couldn't see either of their reactions. I was too nervous to turn and look at them. I imagined my mom and best friend exchanging nervous glances, or even worse, shocked, wide-eyed expressions.

Finally, I heard my mom say, "That's great, Bells."

I felt my shoulders sag as I set aside the bag of frosting and admitted, "Part of me feels like I'm making the wrong decision."

"The wrong decision?" These next words came from Rosalie's lips, and her tone made me turn to look at her. She sounded almost angry. As I took in her face, I saw her eyebrows knit together; her lips kind of puckered as she held two unfrosted pretzel sticks in one hand.

"What?" I asked, my arms coming up to fold across my torso, an automatic defense mechanism.

For just a moment she hesitated, glancing toward my mom. What she saw in her face must have encouraged her to move forward, but I couldn't tear my eyes from my best friend's face. "Bella," she began on a sigh, "I stopped myself from saying it at the restaurant today, but… I feel like I need to say it now." Her face looked pinched, as if it was causing her a great deal of pain to express the words that were coming to her next.

"So say it," I heard myself encouraging her, though I wasn't quite sure I really wanted to hear the words she would say.

"You're… You're being a coward, Bella. Honestly, it isn't fair of you to keep Edward from seeing Renesmee for so long. She's his daughter, too. He has all the right in the world to see her. It doesn't matter that things may or may not work out between you. What does matter is the fact that they both deserve to build a relationship with each other."

In my initial reaction to the words, I found myself angry with my friend. Who was she to know how difficult this was? But then I looked over at my mom, who was resting with her back to the counter, not saying a word; I realized that she was agreeing with Rosalie in her silence.

"People do this all the time, Bella," Rosalie continued, albeit her tone was softer now, "They put aside their past and their feelings for their children. What you're doing… Is kind of selfish, honestly. Renesmee deserves to have a relationship with her dad."

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. I summoned, at long last, words: "You're right."

"I know I am." She crossed the kitchen and took my shoulders in her hands. She said, "I only say these things out of love, Bella. You know I love you. You know I love Nessie. And I know you love her too much to keep her from her father. That's the real reason you invited him."

I nodded. "That's probably true."

Rosalie pulled me in to hug me. "I've been praying about this for a long time, Bella. It's an important step. You're so brave for taking it."

"Thanks," I whispered, all of a sudden overcome with emotion, tears rising in my eyes. I forced myself to blink them back as Rosalie squeezed and released me.

We returned to our tasks, and I worked for another half hour frosting cupcakes before my mom and Rosalie sent me to bed. I went obligingly, knowing they would clean up, and finish whatever needed finishing before morning. I made the heavy trek up to my bedroom and crossed to where Renesmee lay in her crib, face turned to the side. In the moonlight, her skin looked so pale, her lips so dark.

I leaned over the rail to kiss my fingers and bring them to her forehead.

"I love you, Nessie," I whispered, "I hope you're ready to meet your daddy tomorrow."

.

**Edward**

To say that I was nervous was stating the least. But to say that I was insanely excited was also an immense understatement.

It was eleven o' clock the morning of Renesmee's first birthday party, and I still hadn't found a gift. I'd recruited Tanya to go shopping with me, knowing that she would have some sort of idea what to get a one year old for her birthday. She walked, in uncharacteristic silence, alongside me down the sunlit corridor of Middleburg Crossings.

I'd walked in and out of various toy stores, but nothing there seemed _enough_. Nothing in those stores seemed to say, 'This is how much I love you, and this is how sorry I am that I've waited so long to see you again.'

"I don't know," I finally expressed on a sigh. "This is really hard."

"She's going to be excited over anything you get her," Tanya said.

I looked at her hard. "This is why I took you shopping and not my dad or some other guy. I thought you'd have some brilliant idea."

Tanya shrugged, eyeballing a jewelry store up the way. She slowed to look in the window, examining the necklaces and bracelets displayed there like any girl is prone to do. I half expected her to pull out her phone and send a snapshot to Craig, her boyfriend back in Georgia. Apparently he was coming to visit in a couple of days.

I took a cursory glance at the jewelry there, and then my eyes flickered to a banner hanging over one of the counters inside the store: "Sale on All Children's Jewelry! 30% Off!"

"Let's go in here," I suggested, taking Tanya's wrist and dragging her into the store.

**Bella**

I had expected the next morning to be somewhat chaotic, but not this crazy.

Rosalie burst out laughing as the table we were straining to set up came to sit at our knees.

"What on earth?" I growled as I crouched to examine the table legs for some kind of extender. Locating it, I pressed the button and pulled, then did the same to the other side, extending the table to an appropriate height. Table cloth, clips to keep it in place, onto the next table.

Once they were both done, I breezed back across the yard, past the rented bouncy castle, in through the back door to the kitchen, where my mom was arranging the cupcakes on the cake stand. An assortment of other things had been pulled out of the fridge, and I took a couple outside. I thanked God that Nessie was sleeping, for if she hadn't been, I don't know what I would have done.

"Bella!" Rosalie said as she caught up with me and took a particularly heavy bowl of fruit salad off my hands, "You're running around like a chicken with its head cut off! You need to chill."

I shook my head, setting the dishes down on one of the tables and began to arrange them. "Everything has to be perfect."

"Your neurotic side is coming out," she teased, jabbing me in the ribs. I side-stepped her, in the same moment taking the bright yellow bowl of fruit salad off her hands. I found a place for it on the second table and removed the plastic wrap from the top, stirring together the assortment of cut up fruit with the serving spoon my mom had tucked inside.

I took a step back, examining the tables. Crackers and cheese, fruit salad, chocolate dipped pretzels, cheddar popcorn…

"I'll grab the cupcakes," Rosalie offered, heading back to the kitchen.

We still needed to make the punch, the vegetable platter, regular popcorn, other chips, soda, bottled water… I lifted my wrist to check the face of my watch—a brand new nineteenth birthday present from my parents I'd received that morning. It was beautiful, and I'm sure crusted in real diamonds. It was a quarter to noon. People were to arrive at any minute. Condiments! We still needed to set out condiments for the BBQ! And plates and napkins and silverware.

"Mom!" I called, heading back toward the kitchen yet again, "Where's the potato salad?"

In all honesty, I was glad for the chaotic distraction of the morning. It occupied my mind enough so that I didn't have to think about when and how Edward would show up. Would he bring a gift? Would he bring a _date_? Would he be distracted and nervous, or giddy and anxious to see his daughter again? Maybe he'd stay for ten minutes, or maybe he'd stay the entire time. Enough had changed over the year, especially in myself and my own life, that I simply didn't know the answers to those questions anymore. I could only hope that the ideas I held in my mind were the right ones.


	19. Party

**Bella**

Before I started any preparation for Renesmee's party—which would take place the next day—I knew I needed to talk to Edward.

I sat on the back porch for nearly an hour, just holding my phone in my lap, while Renesmee napped that afternoon, debating and going back and forth over whether I really wanted to do this or not.

The outlook on seeing Edward again equally terrified and thrilled me. It would be like a soothing balm to the tear in my soul, the tear that had been aching since the day he met our daughter. But it also made me think about the possibility that things could go wrong again. For I knew where they would go if we met, if we talked, if we even looked at each other again. We would fall head over heels for each other once more, there was no inkling of a doubt in my mind about that. But I also wondered about the possibility of it not working out. If we came together again, what would it do to Nessie, to have known her father, to have just started to make connections to him again, only for him to leave? I didn't want to hurt her like that.

I let the light summer breeze toy with the loose strands of hair that washed around my face, having escaped from the messy bun I'd thrown on top of my head. My hair—though I'd cut it before Renesmee was born—was growing out long again, and it tended to get in the way more often than not. Especially at Nessie's naptime feedings. I was happy to have been able to nurse her for so long. There was still that bond between us, that one thing that no one else could touch, that one thing that was just mine and hers.

I sighed, feeling that pang of guilt in my chest I always felt when I thought of the strength of the bond between my daughter and I, and the lack of the bond between Renesmee and Edward. I was totally responsible for having torn that bond from Edward's grasp, from the realm of possibility. It was my fault they didn't have something between them, it was my fault Edward was hurt, so hurt that he felt he needed to explain his side of things even though there was nothing for him to be remotely responsible for.

Breathing out, long and heavy, through my nose, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts, knowing he'd be there, knowing I never would have deleted him, even if I'd had the courage to try. Before I could think myself out of it, I called him.

I waited only the length of two and a half ringtones before he picked up.

"Hello?" I was right. Just the sound of his voice breathed across my aching heart like a healing agent. Though everything was still so out of order and so upside down, I felt myself relax, and I settled back into the patio seat.

"Hi," I replied, "It's me… Bella."

"Yeah," he said, and cleared his throat. "How… Are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"I've been… Alright." There was a pause, a hesitation on his end, as if he were cautious about crossing a line. Finally he asked, "How's Renesmee?"

I smiled, just a little. I couldn't resist. Just hearing him say her name made me realize that he hadn't forgotten, he hadn't left us totally. I could hear the love he had for her in his tone, and it made my heart swell. "She's good. Walking and almost talking. She's…" I had to pause to laugh, "She's stubborn."

Edward's answering laugh kept the smile on my face. "Just like her mom," he quipped.

"I'm not the one who was stubborn enough to insist, after an entire year, to see her again." Now, my tone was low, shy.

Edward didn't answer for a minute.

"You still there?" I felt the need to ask.

"Yeah," he murmured, "I'm here. I, uh… I miss you two."

_I miss you, too. So much._ "Her party is tomorrow at noon." I don't know what possessed me to invite him, but suddenly I felt the need to. "Here at the house. Just a barbeque in the backyard."

"Is that an invitation?"

I took a breath. "I guess it is." I'd surprised myself. I'd expected to at least meet him for coffee or something before I opened the door between him and our daughter again. I was putting all of my faith into him. I didn't know where he was at. I knew I'd struggled in the last year with my relationship with Christ. I knew I hadn't always been a woman of absolute strength. It would have been naïve of me to guess the alternative for him, especially because of how he'd acted in the pregnancy. How was I to know he hadn't totally given up on it? How was I to remotely guess what he was doing these days? Whether he was going to school, whether he was dating other girls, whether he was even still available?

But he said, "I'll be there," with so much conviction, it made me have to doubt the negatives.

.

"I invited Edward to Nessie's party tomorrow."

These words I finally confessed to my mom and Rosalie, at five minutes to midnight that same day. We were all stationed at separate counters in the kitchen. I was standing by the sink, my back to the rest of the room, frosting cupcakes, so I couldn't see either of their reactions. I was too nervous to turn and look at them. I imagined my mom and best friend exchanging nervous glances, or even worse, shocked, wide-eyed expressions.

Finally, I heard my mom say, "That's great, Bells."

I felt my shoulders sag as I set aside the bag of frosting and admitted, "Part of me feels like I'm making the wrong decision."

"The wrong decision?" These next words came from Rosalie's lips, and her tone made me turn to look at her. She sounded almost angry. As I took in her face, I saw her eyebrows knit together; her lips kind of puckered as she held two unfrosted pretzel sticks in one hand.

"What?" I asked, my arms coming up to fold across my torso, an automatic defense mechanism.

For just a moment she hesitated, glancing toward my mom. What she saw in her face must have encouraged her to move forward, but I couldn't tear my eyes from my best friend's face. "Bella," she began on a sigh, "I stopped myself from saying it at the restaurant today, but… I feel like I need to say it now." Her face looked pinched, as if it was causing her a great deal of pain to express the words that were coming to her next.

"So say it," I heard myself encouraging her, though I wasn't quite sure I really wanted to hear the words she would say.

"You're… You're being a coward, Bella. Honestly, it isn't fair of you to keep Edward from seeing Renesmee for so long. She's his daughter, too. He has all the right in the world to see her. It doesn't matter that things may or may not work out between you. What does matter is the fact that they both deserve to build a relationship with each other."

In my initial reaction to the words, I found myself angry with my friend. Who was she to know how difficult this was? But then I looked over at my mom, who was resting with her back to the counter, not saying a word; I realized that she was agreeing with Rosalie in her silence.

"People do this all the time, Bella," Rosalie continued, albeit her tone was softer now, "They put aside their past and their feelings for their children. What you're doing… Is kind of selfish, honestly. Renesmee deserves to have a relationship with her dad."

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. I summoned, at long last, words: "You're right."

"I know I am." She crossed the kitchen and took my shoulders in her hands. She said, "I only say these things out of love, Bella. You know I love you. You know I love Nessie. And I know you love her too much to keep her from her father. That's the real reason you invited him."

I nodded. "That's probably true."

Rosalie pulled me in to hug me. "I've been praying about this for a long time, Bella. It's an important step. You're so brave for taking it."

"Thanks," I whispered, all of a sudden overcome with emotion, tears rising in my eyes. I forced myself to blink them back as Rosalie squeezed and released me.

We returned to our tasks, and I worked for another half hour frosting cupcakes before my mom and Rosalie sent me to bed. I went obligingly, knowing they would clean up, and finish whatever needed finishing before morning. I made the heavy trek up to my bedroom and crossed to where Renesmee lay in her crib, face turned to the side. In the moonlight, her skin looked so pale, her lips so dark.

I leaned over the rail to kiss my fingers and bring them to her forehead.

"I love you, Nessie," I whispered, "I hope you're ready to meet your daddy tomorrow."

.

**Edward**

To say that I was nervous was stating the least. But to say that I was insanely excited was also an immense understatement.

It was eleven o' clock the morning of Renesmee's first birthday party, and I still hadn't found a gift. I'd recruited Tanya to go shopping with me, knowing that she would have some sort of idea what to get a one year old for her birthday. She walked, in uncharacteristic silence, alongside me down the sunlit corridor of Middleburg Crossings.

I'd walked in and out of various toy stores, but nothing there seemed _enough_. Nothing in those stores seemed to say, 'This is how much I love you, and this is how sorry I am that I've waited so long to see you again.'

"I don't know," I finally expressed on a sigh. "This is really hard."

"She's going to be excited over anything you get her," Tanya said.

I looked at her hard. "This is why I took you shopping and not my dad or some other guy. I thought you'd have some brilliant idea."

Tanya shrugged, eyeballing a jewelry store up the way. She slowed to look in the window, examining the necklaces and bracelets displayed there like any girl is prone to do. I half expected her to pull out her phone and send a snapshot to Craig, her boyfriend back in Georgia. Apparently he was coming to visit in a couple of days.

I took a cursory glance at the jewelry there, and then my eyes flickered to a banner hanging over one of the counters inside the store: "Sale on All Children's Jewelry! 30% Off!"

"Let's go in here," I suggested, taking Tanya's wrist and dragging her into the store.

**Bella**

I had expected the next morning to be somewhat chaotic, but not this crazy.

Rosalie burst out laughing as the table we were straining to set up came to sit at our knees.

"What on earth?" I growled as I crouched to examine the table legs for some kind of extender. Locating it, I pressed the button and pulled, then did the same to the other side, extending the table to an appropriate height. Table cloth, clips to keep it in place, onto the next table.

Once they were both done, I breezed back across the yard, past the rented bouncy castle, in through the back door to the kitchen, where my mom was arranging the cupcakes on the cake stand. An assortment of other things had been pulled out of the fridge, and I took a couple outside. I thanked God that Nessie was sleeping, for if she hadn't been, I don't know what I would have done.

"Bella!" Rosalie said as she caught up with me and took a particularly heavy bowl of fruit salad off my hands, "You're running around like a chicken with its head cut off! You need to chill."

I shook my head, setting the dishes down on one of the tables and began to arrange them. "Everything has to be perfect."

"Your neurotic side is coming out," she teased, jabbing me in the ribs. I side-stepped her, in the same moment taking the bright yellow bowl of fruit salad off her hands. I found a place for it on the second table and removed the plastic wrap from the top, stirring together the assortment of cut up fruit with the serving spoon my mom had tucked inside.

I took a step back, examining the tables. Crackers and cheese, fruit salad, chocolate dipped pretzels, cheddar popcorn…

"I'll grab the cupcakes," Rosalie offered, heading back to the kitchen.

We still needed to make the punch, the vegetable platter, regular popcorn, other chips, soda, bottled water… I lifted my wrist to check the face of my watch—a brand new nineteenth birthday present from my parents I'd received that morning. It was beautiful, and I'm sure crusted in real diamonds. It was a quarter to noon. People were to arrive at any minute. Condiments! We still needed to set out condiments for the BBQ! And plates and napkins and silverware.

"Mom!" I called, heading back toward the kitchen yet again, "Where's the potato salad?"

In all honesty, I was glad for the chaotic distraction of the morning. It occupied my mind enough so that I didn't have to think about when and how Edward would show up. Would he bring a gift? Would he bring a _date_? Would he be distracted and nervous, or giddy and anxious to see his daughter again? Maybe he'd stay for ten minutes, or maybe he'd stay the entire time. Enough had changed over the year, especially in myself and my own life, that I simply didn't know the answers to those questions anymore. I could only hope that the ideas I held in my mind were the right ones.


	20. Heart to Heart Date Night

**Bella**

The girl—no, the woman—who stared back at me in the mirror was not one I recognized. Or maybe just one I hadn't seen in awhile.

I'd painstakingly slaved over the locks of my hair, for nearly forty-five minutes, with a flat iron. I'd gotten somewhere, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never get rid of that slight wave.

I'd stayed basic with the makeup, knowing that this night, this date, was about so much more than just looking pretty. So I stuck with some eye shadow, liner, mascara. Tinted moisturizer and a tiny bit of gloss—admittedly, out of character for me. I tended to stick with chap stick most of the time.

I wore a crimson silk blouse over a black tank top, jeans, black patent ballet flats.

I checked my watch. Six thirty. I was supposed to be there at seven. Already late. Cursing myself silently, because I had wanted to be there on time, I snatched my purse off my bed and hurried down the stairs, into the kitchen where my parents were eating dinner with Renesmee.

As typical as ever, my daughter squealed and started waving with both hands when she saw me. How she loved me so much, I didn't know.

"All ready to go?" my dad asked before biting into his garlic bread.

I nodded. "Yep. Heading out now." I crossed to where Nessie was buckled into her booster seat and leaned over to kiss her head, to avoid the tomato sauce on her hands. "You be a good girl for grandma and grandpa, okay?" I said to her. As if she understood me completely, she grinned.

_Of course, Mommy. I'll be the perfect little angel that I always am._

"Have a good time," my mom requested, as she righted Renesmee's sippy cup that she'd knocked over in her exuberant hand waving.

I smiled. "I will. Bye!"

I headed back through the kitchen, through the entryway, to the door. It was only once I was in my car and on the highway that I started to get a little nervous. Maybe it was because I was a woman, but I wondered if Edward knew how much meaning this night held. This could possibly make or break the rest of our shared lives. Of course, I'd made the decision that if things didn't work out between us, he would still be able to see Renesmee. On holidays, and maybe some weekends eventually, if we ever lived close enough again. Parts of the summers, when she was old enough. I wanted Renesmee to know her father, and have him involved in her life. I knew Edward wanted to be there. There was no doubting that after the birthday party the other day. Whether he wanted to be involved with me, however, was still questionable. Of course he had seemed to want to be—but was that only because we'd been apart for so long, and having seen me again had overrun him with emotions? Or did his feelings truly still remain?

I knew how I felt about the entire situation. I knew that I was still madly in love with Edward. I knew that I still wanted him, that I'd always want him. The question to answer was whether emotions were enough.

I shot across the highway, cruising toward a turning point of a night.

.

**Edward**

Bella was late. Half an hour late, to be exact. She was lucky I'd forgotten a few things and had had to run out—though I was paranoid she'd show up the entire time I was gone.

My parents' house was ours for the night. Alice was out with friends, and my parents had exiled their selves as well, probably on a date night of their own. I knew they all desperately wanted to be here when Bella showed up, to see her again. Even more badly, I knew they wanted to meet Renesmee.

_One day_, I could only hope for them.

I was cooking fish on the BBQ, and had set up the table outside with a simple white tablecloth, and a couple candles of my mom's I'd found. They had a subtle scent, nothing overpowering at all. I think my mom told me they were beeswax or something of the sort. Also cooking were potatoes, and yellow squash, in the oven. I hoped everything would turn out fine, as I'd never prepared this recipe before.

In the recent year, I'd taken up a lot of cooking after the first month at school. Us guys had sat down together and agreed that eating out as much as we were was doing us no good, and that we should all pitch in and start cooking. At first, I was a disaster. I don't think I'd cooked something other than Kraft Dinner or grilled cheese in my entire life. But sooner or later, I started to get ahold of it, and found that I actually enjoyed cooking. Soon I was experimenting in the kitchen. Of course, not everything turned out perfect, but I was proud to say that more of my creations had been successful than failures.

I was just checking on the potatoes and squash when the doorbell rang and I straightened, glancing up at the clock on the wall across the kitchen. She was here.

"Sorry I'm late," was the first thing she said upon me opening the door. I didn't even have time to say hi. She held up a glass bottle and said, sheepishly, "Will a bottle of sparkling cider be enough to smooth things over?"

I laughed and took the bottle as she set her purse down and looked around. "I suppose it could be," I finally forced myself to say. I was blown away, my thoughts in a scramble, at the sight of her. As always, she looked amazing. Her hair looked so _long_, and the red of her top made her cheeks look rosy and bright.

As she followed me into the kitchen, I heard her take an appreciative sniff. She said, "It smells amazing in here, Edward."

I had to chuckle as I pulled down a couple of wine glasses, thankful for the fact that she'd brought along something non-alcoholic. Not that we could legally buy alcohol yet. It was crazy to me to think that we had a child of our own, and yet we still couldn't buy and drink alcohol legally. I shook my head as I poured. "Thanks. I've never made this recipe before, so hopefully it turns out."

"I didn't know you cooked," she admitted as I slid the first glass across the counter toward her. She took a timid sip.

"I never used to. But once I started going to school, the guys and I realized that cooking was probably a healthier option than eating out all the time. So we kind of taught ourselves. Plus, it's always something girls love." I winked at her, just because I was feeling particularly free and playful.

Bella laughed that tinkling, beautiful laugh I'd missed so much. "That's very true," she said.

Inevitably, our conversation turned to Renesmee, discussing milestones, favorite foods, favorite toys, words she knew how to say… It kept on occurring to me, throughout the conversation, just how distant I was from our daughter. Was it entirely by my choosing?

When the food was ready, I brought her out to the back and we sat down at the table to eat. I watched her take her first bite, chew contemplatively.

"I think you've made me a fish lover," she finally said.

Immediately I was mortified. "You didn't like fish before now?"

Seeming to play off my own emotions, she shook her head, chagrined. "Not particularly."

I laughed and stabbed a potato with my fork. "Well, I'm glad you like it then."

She shrugged, looking out over the yard, the candlelight flickering off her face. I hadn't realized until now just how visceral of a reaction I had to her. I hadn't realized I'd missed her _this much_. "I've eaten salmon here and there, but not much of anything else." She reached for her glass, her eyes finding mine again. "But this is really good."

I watched her take a sip, her lips on the rim of the glass, and tried to suppress my thoughts, my memories, my yearnings… So long had it been since we had been alone. The tension building in my gut was of amazing strength, and I forced myself to take another bite.

"So," I said, desperate to focus on a topic instead of the way her skin looked in the dim lighting, so soft, almost like porcelain… "You said you're taking online classes down in Tallahassee?"

Bella nodded, swallowing the bite of squash she'd just taken. "Yeah. Just a couple. I'm not really sure what I want to do yet, so I'm doing a psychology class and a class on medieval history."

"Sounds interesting," I noted, kind of surprised. I didn't remember Bella ever being a history kind of girl.

She gestured to me with her fork. "Where are you going to school? Or… Are you…." She trailed off, seeming embarrassed. Did this really have to be as awkward as we were making it? Maybe it just felt that way because we used to know so much about each other… _Except that she hates fish and you made her fish for dinner,_ I reminded myself.

I nodded. "I'm going to school. Over at the Thomasville Community College. That's where Jasper, Emmett and I are renting a house."

"You're kidding," she stated, looking as if she was about to drop her fork. "Do you know how close that is to Tallahassee?"

I smiled. "Like twenty minutes away, yeah," I said, "I realized that the other day."

Bella shook her head and took another bite of her dinner. She seemed to be cleaning it up pretty well, I had to note. Maybe the fish hadn't been such a bad idea. She seemed to like it. "It would be like God, to do that," she finally said, quiet.

"Yeah." My answering tone was equally as subdued, and it was my turn to gaze out over the darkened yard.

"How is that… Area of your life? How has that panned out?" I heard her ask. It sounded so much like an interview question, I had to internally cringe. I knew there would be some things that would not be debatable whatsoever for her, criteria I would have to meet.

"Jesus has been… All I've clung to in this past year," I told her, and it was no word of a lie. When all else in my life had seemed to be spinning out of control, I could always resort to prayer. It felt like I'd been in constant prayer for the past year. "I can't say I've grown much per se, or served too much, but I can say that I've been completely dependent on him. Of course there have been times where I've been frustrated, and have asked what the point is, but… You know Jesus," I said, smirking at her, "Once you're in, you're in. He's not gonna let you get away that easily."

Bella smiled softly, staring down at her nearly empty plate. "That's true. I've felt… Much the same. I'm glad you're still… Good. With Him."

"Well," I admitted, "I was pretty angry at the start. I spent a lot of time praying… Pretty demandingly. It took me awhile to accept that things might have worked out the way they did for a reason."

"I never wanted to keep her from you like that," she admitted now, nearly whispering. She was sitting back in her seat, arms over her torso, playing with a pendent that hung around her neck. For an instantaneous moment, I wondered if Renesmee was wearing her locket. I watched Bella shake her head, the guilt, the grief coming off of her nearly tangible. But maybe that was just because I felt so close to her in this moment. I waited for her to continue, and it took her a minute, but finally she said, "I thought, you know, a day or two after I told you I was going away, that you would… Come to my house or something, and demand I stay, demand I see that you really did care. I thought…" She paused, shrugging, "I guess I expected you to fight sooner than you did. I wasn't prepared for you to just… Accept things like that and really stay true to what I'd asked you to do and try to move on with your life."

I had to swallow. Hearing her, so blatantly honest like that, was a hard pill to swallow. "It was…" I began, and had to stop to clear my throat. "That was a really difficult time for me. I… Didn't know what I was doing for a while there. The only thing it felt I could do was… Obey what you'd asked me to do, to try and move on; to go to college, to try and date… But everywhere I went, I only saw you, and Renesmee. I kept praying… You know, God's will be done and all that… But those images in my mind, those memories, they just wouldn't go away. And I started to think that maybe God's will… Is for us to be together."

Bella looked at me for a moment. Her face, slightly shaded from where she sat back in her seat, was hard to make out, but I wondered if I could see a slight sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I should have fought sooner," I continued. "I knew you wouldn't listen to me right away. That you'd need more time than just a couple days to figure things out. To see that those feelings wouldn't go away." I rested my arms on the table, leaning toward her. "I guess when I came around at Christmastime and realized you probably left so soon because you suspected I'd come around… I wondered if your feelings had completely faded."

"I was scared," she admitted, whispering again, and I saw her shrug her shoulders. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to let you in again. I'm not sure, even now, whether that would be a good idea for us." Her admission shot ice water through my veins—no, nitric acid. Wasn't that what this date was about? To decide whether we would move forward again? I forced myself to clear my ears, to listen to what she continued to say: "Of course, I still want you to be as involved with Renesmee as circumstances allow. But this…" She gestured between the two of us, "is going to take some time for us to figure out. I know your love for Nessie is real and genuine. I could see that at the party on Saturday. I know I will make no mistake in allowing you to build your relationship with her. But right now, you and I, meeting up like this. It's, of course, going to feel amazing, and the attraction is going to be there, and I'm still going to want to kiss you and be with you… I just want to be really sure that things between us are going to work out before we set a picture for our daughter that might not last…"

What she was saying made perfect sense, of course. But I couldn't say it didn't frustrate me. It had been a _year_, and if both of our feelings hadn't changed with that amount of time and distance between, would they ever?

I hadn't realized I'd said those words out loud until the said, "I don't know. I just… I want to be one hundred percent sure, y'know?"

"Of course I know that," I said, "Hardly anybody wants to get into a relationship not to have it work out. What's the sense in that?" Unconsciously, I was reaching across the table to take her hands in mine. She didn't pull away, so I took that as a good sign. "I know for me, that my feelings for you are one hundred percent real and sure and true, Bella. I'm still in love with you. Can you see that?"

She swallowed and looked away.

"Can you?"

"Yes," she murmured, "I can see that. I just don't want to hurt Renesmee."

"You think I do?"

"No," she said, eyes back on me, wide, and she was shaking her head, "Of course not. We just have to be… Mature and logical about this, Edward. It feels… irrational after seeing each other once after an entire year, to just fall back into it all."

"What's rational about love, Bella?" I asked, unable to hold back my laughter, though it sounded pretty humorless. "Where's the logic in it?"

Again she was shaking her head, slow. Finally, "I just want to be sure."

"Are you doubting that you will be?" I asked, "Because I know that if it doesn't take a year and miles of separation to kill something like what we have, it _has_ to be real, Bella. It just has to be."


	21. Your Will Be Done

**Bella**

"How was it?"

It took everything in me to stop in the entryway and not run upstairs and fling myself on the bed in a mess of tears. I was _so_ overwhelmed. Forcing myself to turn and look at my mom, who was curled up on the couch in the sitting room off the entrance, a book in her lap, I chirped, rather falsely, "Good."

She looked at me for a minute, and I could see the doubt in her eyes. I painted a smile across my face. "He made fish for dinner, it was really good. We had a really good talk, and…" I trailed off.

"You look a little frazzled," she noted as she set the book aside and shifted her body to face me, though she stayed where she was on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

In all reality, I didn't. But I knew that if I just let it boil under the surface of my skin too long, it would explode in a really unpredictable way. And I wanted to figure this out, because I wanted to be with Eli. So I sighed and made my way into the sitting room to take a seat beside my mom on the couch.

"Oh, you know me," I said, "Always overthinking things…"

"He wants to be with you again," she surmised rather matter of factly.

I nodded, folding my hands into my lap. "And I want to be with him," I admitted to her, "And I want him to be with Renesmee and to build a relationship with her." I let my shoulders slump. "I just want to know that it's real."

"Bella," my mom began with such conviction I had to look up at her, "Can you not see for yourself that it's been real all along? That young man loves you with all his soul. He's waited on you and let you spread your wings. He's let you leave with his daughter, and he hasn't demanded a word of explanation—at least I don't think he has. That's love, Bella. Giving you your space, and the time to sort things out in your head. He's sacrificed so much for you girls, and I know you gave up a lot of things for him, too. Is that not enough?"

I sat, curled into myself, for several seconds, mulling over her words. My mom was right—honestly, when is my mom ever wrong? "You don't think he's just overwhelmed by all of his feelings now that we've seen each other again?"

"Oh, probably," she stated, which surprised me, "but" she continued, "his feelings have also remained the same for more than a year. I know the lovey dovey feelings don't last. I know there's more to love and… being together than that. I know it takes work and selflessness, and action. But I sense, underneath all that emotion between the two of you, something everlasting. God has put him back in your path for a reason, Bella. Take hold of that and _do_ something about it."

For another minute, I sat there. I was stunned by the possible truth of her words. I had never given a thought towards the possibility that this might all be God's doing, part of His plan. I had never been one to believe that there was a specific 'One' for us out in the world somewhere. I had always simply believed that in uniting together as one, with Christ at the center, we would find our 'oneness' in that, and that would be what made us soul mates. I was starting to believe now that maybe, just maybe, there could be more than that.

"What are you thinking?" my mom prodded after a lengthy moment of silence.

A little dazed, I came back to her slowly, and blinked a couple times. "I… I appreciate that. Thanks, Mom." Slowly, I was pushing myself to my feet. "I'm gonna go upstairs, and have a shower, and pray… I'm just realizing now that I have a lot to talk to God about."

Softly, my mother smiled at me, and reached out for my hand, squeezing it lightly. "I love you, Bella. I'm praying right along with you. God has a bigger plan in mind than you could ever imagine for yourself."

.

After I showered—just long enough to wash the hairspray out and the makeup off—I did something I hadn't done in a very long time. I pulled out my prayer journal.

In the dim light of my bedside lamp, I opened the page to the blue ribbon bookmark. I could barely glance at my garbled, messily scrawled prayers there. My last entry had been from more than a year ago, a few days after I'd broken things off with Edward. I'd pleaded with God to show me the way, to help me stay stable in the decision I'd made, to take ahold of my life and shape it for His use. Blots of ink stains interrupted the script—my confused, anguished tears, I realized.

I turned to a fresh page and entered the date at the top. Then I began to write.

_I know it's been awhile since I've last made an entry,_ I began, _and I also know I've been praying continuously since this last one. In my head, in my mind, tripping and stumbling through this new life I've been discovering Renesmee. But I'm wondering now, God, if I've been praying only to make Your will my will. If I've been so adamant in creating this new life, that I've ignored the one You've already laid out for me, planned before I was even a formed thought in my mother's womb… _I paused for a moment, looking up and across the room, to where Nessie slept soundly in her play pen, her breathing even and steady and calm, lost in the sweet dreamlands of sleep. So many times I sat in the rocker in her room, in the beginning. She'd developed a sleep schedule rather early, making it an easy transfer from my room to her own crib. Many nights, I was the one waking, hungry for _her_. I would sit there, in the corner of her room, and simply watch her sleep, satisfied that she was happy and content and safe. _Thank you so much, Lord, for the gift you've given me in Renesmee. I cannot imagine a life without her. Thank you for the love you have for her, for the plan you have for her life. _

I skipped to the next line on the page, hoping I could word the sighs in my heart next. It took me a moment, but I began to write again…

_I know, God, that You do everything for a reason, and that everything that happens in my life is in order to further your glory lived out on this earth. But sometimes I don't understand. Why, when I was so sure that you were pulling our lives away from Edward, away from that path, would you bring us back now? Is it true what my mom said? That he could be part of your plan for me? Why, then, would I feel so afraid? You know the magnitude of my feelings for him, God. You know how in love I still am with Edward. I'm beginning to realize now, God, that you may have never let those feelings fade from either of our hearts, for a very good reason. Do you want us together, Lord, is that it? Is that your big plan in this whole scheme of things?_

_ I pray for clarity in these next weeks, in these next few days, as Renesmee and I travel back home. I pray you help me sort things out, that I would come to know the plan you have for us, and that if that plan is to involve Edward, that you would make that very clear, God. Speak to him. Let Edward know how important it is that I know that he is part of your plan, if that is so. Regardless, Lord, let your will be done. I come to you with open hands, with nothing to bring, but a plea. A plea to know whether Edward and I are to be together. And the concrete truth, that once we are, we will be, and will never leave each other. That we would stay rooted in your truth and your love, and the faith we have in you. Amen._

_._

**Edward**

It had been two weeks since I last saw Bella. We'd texted back and forth a handful of times after that night at my parents' house. I found myself looking back on that night a lot lately, in the middle of class lectures, up in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping, on my short walks to school. I was praying about it a lot—not just the night we'd had, but the whole scheme of things as well. That God would show Bella, he would light a sure fire of truth in her heart, so she would know that we belonged together.

In complete faith, I knew God had the capability of doing so, because God can do anything. What troubled me was that quiet, constant doubt—tiny and minuscule—in the back of my mind that wondered if that wasn't in the cards for us. Maybe God wanted me to be a part of Renesmee's life, but what if Bella and I coming back together wasn't part of the plan?

The thought broke my heart so completely, I couldn't bring myself to hold it as a possibility in my mind. If I couldn't have Bella, what was the point of this last year? What was the point of going to school in the state, when I'd had so many offers elsewhere? What was the point of going to school for something sustainable and supporting, when part of me wanted to travel, take some time off? What was the point of that constant perseverance in my heart that told me to keep going, because it would be worth it someday, because I could hold them both in my arms, and know that I was providing for them, and that I'd fought for them, that I'd never given up?

This was what it kept coming back to, every time I brought the subject up with God in prayer. This was what made me sure that God's plan was for Bella and I to come back together again, to get married one day, to embrace Renesmee together, to lead her and guide her into a life we both valued so much.

I would drive to Tallahassee that very day and propose if I knew Bella would say yes.

"Hey, who's on dinner tonight?"

I forced my blank stare away from my computer screen, into the present, to look up at Emmett, who stood in the living room doorway. I had to blink a couple of times before I could really focus on what he'd asked.

"Uh, Jazz, I think," I could finally say.

Emmett stared at me a minute, arms folded over his chest. "You look out of it."

"I was just… thinking," I said, turning my attention back to my computer screen, scrolling through the document I was apparently typing in, trying to remember what it was for.

"About Bella?"

"How'd you guess?" I asked, pressing my shoulders back into the couch and sighing. "I wish she knew as firmly as I did that we belong together."

Emmett shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I don't know how you know, man. But when you talk about her… It's like the decision has already been made. Like you're already ten years in the future, and you've married her, or something."

"How do I get her to realize the same thing?" I implored, knowing he wouldn't have the answer, but desperately wanting to know anyway.

Again, he chuckled that low, rumbling laugh and said, "I don't know, dude. You gotta figure that part out on your own." Then he was lumbering on to the next room.

I groaned, running my hands through my hair.

Two things happened in the next moment. One, a Bible verse came to me, something I'd been reading just that morning from Galatians 6; and two, in near conjunction with the first, a peace so warm and soothing it was like I was sinking in it.

_And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up._


	22. I Remember It All Too Well

**Bella**

There were many people I was thankful for: family, friends from home, friends from church, particularly Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield. They were an older couple I'd met in the nursery when Renesmee was just tiny. It was the first place I'd volunteered at in Tallahassee, simply because I was still too attached to leave my two month old daughter alone in someone else's care so that I could attend the service.

On my first day there, I realized that Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield were a couple of the most compassionate, patient, caring people I'd ever met. After that, I didn't have a problem leaving Renesmee in their care, volunteering on a one-month-one, one-month-off basis.

Sooner rather than later, I was approached about volunteering in the church library before and after a couple services a month. This was one of those Sundays, and Mrs. Wakefield was more than happy to watch over Renesmee as I aided other people in the church anywhere from twenty minutes after the service, to sometimes as long as an hour, depending on how busy the service had been. All I had to do was sign Renesmee out on one of the computers stationed near the childcare sign-in desk—which took two seconds—and Mrs. Wakefield was free to walk my daughter around the church until I was all finished. Renesmee loved hanging out with the Wakefields. I wondered if maybe she felt they were like a second set of grandparents to her. Many times, as I would approach them, Renesmee would appear to be the star of the conversation, usually stuck between Mrs. Wakefield and another woman her age.

Now was one of those times. I recognized Meredith, one of Mrs. Wakefield's good friends, tickling Renesmee under the chin. My daughter grinned and giggled. One of the pigtails I'd styled her hair into that morning before we left was missing its ribbon. I wondered where it could have gone.

"Hi," I called, announcing myself as I came up on them, and all three of them turned to smile at me, Renesmee squealing in particular excitement. Immediately she was reaching for me, babbling, "Mama, Mama, Mama".

"How was the library, dear?" Mrs. Wakefield asked me, laying a hand on my arm.

"Busy," I said, thinking back to the five library cards I'd signed individuals up for that morning. "How was the nursery?"

"Busy," Mrs. Wakefield said with a laugh. "I can't imagine why."

Shifting Renesmee to my other hip, I said, "Our church is growing. Pastor Owen was talking about it in the sermon last week."

"That's just so great," Mrs. Wakefield said, a faraway look in her eyes.

"How are you, Meredith?" I thought to say, as Renesmee began to tug on the loose strands of my hair. That would teach me for leaving it down.

"Oh, things are great," she said, grinning happily. Meredith always kept her Bible clutched in her hands. Constantly she was flipping through it, and many a time, she would leave us with a verse for the week. "Always praying for you, Bella," she reminded me. As if I could forget. These women were warriors when it came to prayer, and they never failed to remind me that I was a part of their daily prayers. Mrs. Wakefield knew more about my life than Meredith did, as I'd been able to open up to her a little over coffee a couple times after church, when she and her husband convinced me to stay. Even though Meredith wasn't praying for me as specifically as Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield surely were, I was still grateful. I needed all the prayer I could get, lately.

"Thanks, Meredith. We appreciate the prayers. They always help," I said, and caught site of Renesmee's ginormous yawn out of the corner of my eye. That was my cue. "Well, we should probably get going. This little one needs some lunch and a nap."

"Alright, dear, we'll see you next Sunday," Mrs. Wakefield said, her hand fluttering to my wrist again. She was always touching me, but it was never awkward or overbearing. It left me with a sense of peace more often than not.

"See you next week," I called over my shoulder, already heading toward the door. I felt them watch me go, and knew they would express some sort of heartache to the other about my condition. I wasn't oblivious to the fact that these women always wanted to help more. In the beginning they'd been bringing meals or batches of cookies for me, when Renesmee was really young. After awhile, I begged them to just pray instead.

"Bella!" I heard, just as I was turning the corner into the huge coat closet off the front entrance. I glanced over my shoulder to see Angela hurrying toward me. She didn't have her baby boy with her—only a few months younger than Renesmee, and with the biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen.

"Hey!" I called back as she finally reached us. Angela was only twenty, but had been married for two years. She and her husband, high school sweethearts, got married six months out of high school. It kept my sane to have someone in kind of the same position as me—young, with a baby to keep up with. We'd gotten together a few times, though I couldn't say we were best friends, exactly. Maybe it was because we just hadn't reached that stage in our relationship yet, or maybe it was because I just felt hesitant to make friends. I wasn't quite sure. "How are you? Where's Kai?"

"Ben's got him," she explained, confirming my thoughts, as she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. "Just wanted to catch up with you," she continued, smiling and waving at Renesmee, who, becoming grumpy now, tucked her face into my neck. "How was your visit back home?"

Internally, I sighed. "Um, complicated," I decided to say. "The birthday party went great. Edward… Edward actually showed up."

Angela looked surprised. "He did? How did that go?"

I shrugged as I pulled Renesmee's thin white cardigan off our shared coat hanger and tucked it over her shoulders. I had a feeling she'd be out before we even got home. "It was great to see him there. Renesmee took to him immediately, which I was shocked at."

"Yeah! She doesn't usually like men, huh?" she recalled. "That's kind of—" she paused to smile, "—kind of really cool, actually. She must know deep down he's her daddy or something."

Her words made my stomach ache. I realized I needed to reply, but only a weak-sounded "Yeah" escaped my lips.

Then Angela looked concerned. She glanced over her shoulder, and then back to me. "If you want to meet up for coffee sometime and talk about it, I would love to do that."

"Sure," I said, taking hold of the opportunity. "How about tomorrow, around nine?"

Angela nodded. "Sure, sounds perfect. The usual place?"

"The usual place," I confirmed.

"Awesome. See you there, Bella. Have a good night." She touched me once on the shoulder, and I knew she was kind of confused, but that she also realized my trip back home had been more complicated than I could have imagined. I was glad we were meeting up tomorrow. It would give me more opportunity to talk it out with someone, go over things in my head a little more. Angela was never judgmental, never gave you those looks like you were crazy or something. She listened, and only offered advice when necessary. That's what I loved about her.

I grabbed my purse off the hanger, hiked Renesmee a little farther up on my hip, and headed out into the heated church parking lot.

.

**Edward**

Church let out early on Sunday, and I emerged into the outside world blinking. It was always a shock to go from the subdued darkness of the sanctuary, to the sudden invasive brightness of the sun. I shaded my eyes as I headed toward my Volvo, parked way across the parking lot, jingling my keys in my hand, gripping my phone in the other.

It had been nearly three days since Bella and I had last talked. Throughout the year previous, it had been easy—okay, not easy, but bearable—not to call her, not to text or email her. Maybe this was because I had felt she wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe it was because as time between us lengthened, the burn was soothed. But her visit into the city last weekend had been like a secondary burn, another scalding to the skin, and it was so much harder now to resist talking to her, to resist seeing her. Now that I knew she wanted me to see Renesmee, it was an in for me, too, I supposed. A way for me to begin seeing her again, a way for me to show her that I wouldn't stop fighting this time, that I was serious this time, more serious than I'd ever been.

Originally, I was going to stay home, at my mom and dad's, for the summer. It had been a decision I'd made back at Christmastime. I loved my family, and I liked hanging out with them. But the morning after Bella had come over for our date—though I hesitated to call it that, because in all honesty it hadn't really felt like one—we all had a chat over coffee, at the kitchen table.

"I want to fight for her," I had told them, "For them."

"How are you going to do that, son?" my dad had asked, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes, wise, resting on my face. It wasn't a challenge, I don't think. I suppose he was confident enough in my abilities to know that I had an idea of what to do.

"I need to go home," I said next, looking from his eyes, to my mom's eyes. Alice had still been sleeping. I knew she'd take it the hardest of all. I'd miss her too. We'd planned on an entire summer together, my family and I. But I knew my parents would understand. They would realize that my priorities had shifted, and they would know where I needed to be.

"This will always be your home, Edward," my mom promised me, reaching across the table to lay her hand over mine. It was soft and warm. Her eyes, soft and tranquil, watched me, waited for my next words.

"I know that, Mom," I assured her, flipping my palm so that it would touch hers, and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. But I need to go back to Thomasville and fight for the girls I love. I need to show them that I want to be there for them. I want them back."

My dad was nodding. My mom sat back in her chair, still watching me, with openness in her face I trusted. They exchanged a look, a look my parents had always shared between them. An expression they traded when they were reading each other's thoughts—I swear, they could do it.

Finally, my dad said, "We're proud of you, son. We're always praying for you."

Now, I blinked away the memory, wondering if, even now, coming out of their own church sermon back home in Middleburg, they were praying for me. What was a parent's prayer like? I'd prayed for Renesmee many times since she'd been born—for safety, health, purity, and for her to know Christ's love someday. But as your kids grew older, and you got to know them better, came into better tune with them, I had to wonder if your praying would be unceasing, always just a constant murmur in your heart for them. I hoped this was the case, because I needed my parents' prayer. I needed, in fact, as much prayer as I could possibly get.

Fuelled by the knowledge that people—my parents especially—were rooting for me, I pulled out my phone as I slipped into my car, and dialed Bella's number. It was hot inside the truck, and so I left the door open as the phone rang. Once, twice, three times.

Finally, a low, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." I said.

"Hi," she repeated, her voice still quiet, still subdued. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I just got out of church. I… I was wondering if I could come see you and Renesmee." I glanced at the clock. It was nearly one o' clock in the afternoon. There was plenty enough time to get there, and put in a good afternoon's worth of hangout time.

"She's sleeping right now," Bella said, and I realized the reason for the tone of her voice. She didn't want to wake her—our—daughter. "She'll sleep till probably around two."

"Oh, okay. Well I could hold on a bit here, and—"

"Or you could come over now," I heard her say, and then I imagined her biting her lip, for some odd reason. What she was really saying was, _Or you could come see me._

"Sure," I said, "I'll see you in a little bit."


	23. decision

**Bella**

We were outside when Edward pulled into the back alley behind the house. I heard the familiar purr of his Volvo as he pulled up behind my own car, and the vehicle from before helped tame the humming anxiety in my gut, just a little. After all this time, he was still driving the same thing.

Renesmee, from where she'd been walking her push-toy across the pad of cement in the backyard, paused and looked up, toward the gate. No one but us usually came in through that gate, so I imagine she had to be a little curious.

"La?" she asked, turning her big brown eyes towards me. This was how she said 'Lana'.

"No, baby, it's not Lana," I said, and again I was caught. "_It's your daddy, baby." "It's Edward, baby."_

The gate unlatched then, and Edward stepped through, taking in the two of us.

"Hey," he said, grinning at each of us.

"Hi—" I started to say, but Nessie's screech cut me off. She had abandoned her zebra with wheels and was toddling toward Edward. I could hear her baby giggle as she approached him.

"You remember me!" Edward crowed, scooping her up into his arms.

Renesmee squealed again, tapping both of his cheeks with her palms. He was clean-shaven, the skin on his face smooth and clear looking. The urge to touch him, however, was easily suppressed as I watched how he and Renesmee interacted. She was leading him over to her outside toy bucket—which I made sure to spray down every week—and pulling out one of her favorite animal puzzles. It was durable, and plastic coated. Usually I would have reserved it for indoor play, but somehow it had made its way outside.

She started pulling the little pieces out of their indents and handing them to Edward.

"Thank you," he said each time, with the same exact amount of enthusiasm.

I sat back in my lawn chair, not wanting to disturb them. This moment was so precious, and I knew then that I was making the right decision in having him see Renesmee.

"How was the service?" he finally asked, still taking the last of the pieces.

"Good," I said as Renesmee began to take them back and tried shoving the horse shaped piece into the dog's slot. "How was yours?"

"My service was good. The pastor talked about forgiveness."

"Good topic," I noted as Edward pointed toward the horse slot.

"Maybe it goes there," he coached, and as Nessie slid the piece into the rightful slot, she grinned hugely up at him. "Nice!" he said, lifting his hand. "High five!" Renesmee lifted her own hand and slapped his, and Edward laughed. "Wow. You actually know how to high five. I didn't think you would."

"Well, she doesn't live under a rock," I joked.

Edward grinned at me over his shoulder as Renesmee took the duck piece next, and, again, attempted to fit it into the dog's place. I smiled back, and for a minute we just stared at each other.

Then he said, "Thanks for letting me come over, Bella."

"You're welcome," I barely whispered.

.

It was nearly five thirty, and we'd moved inside to play. All afternoon, Edward had seemed content just sitting on the floor, playing with Renesmee, reading her books, and rolling a ball between the two of them—though that lasted for a total of twenty seconds.

Finally, though, he said, "I should probably head home."

I nodded as he pushed himself to his feet. Renesmee followed his movement with her gaze, looking slightly confused. "I should probably make her some dinner."

We headed toward the door, and Edward started to thank me again for the afternoon, but then Renesmee began to bawl. Alarmed, I dodged back around the couch to tend to her, wondering what had happened. It didn't appear she'd fallen or pinched her fingers in anything.

"What happened?" I asked her, rhetorically, of course, when I scooped her up. As I did so, though, she only seemed to cry harder, and then she was squirming in my arms. Confused, I put her down on her feet, and watched as she moved over to Edward, still sobbing her little heart out.

"Hey, hey," Edward said, crouching as she approached him, his arms out. "It's okay, no need for tears." Once in his arms, she rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny little arms locked like vises around his neck. "It's okay," he soothed, rocking back and forth slightly as she calmed, "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you." And just like that, he said it.

This scene, which I watched from across the room, was so familiar. In the same instant, I was seeing our brand new daughter, cradled awkwardly in Edward's arms, in the hospital room all that time ago, the morning sun falling through the window behind them. I saw him shushing her, and rocking her, and her eyes fluttering shut as he did so, so completely at peace.

The memory, the feeling, lodged stones in my throat, and I moved toward them, uneasy. I really didn't want to get emotional in front of Edward, not right now.

"She's probably hungry," I heard myself say, and I saw my hands reaching out, taking Renesmee back from him, pulling her into my own arms. She looked up into my face, blinked twice, and began to sob once more. Usually when she did this, she would cave into me, press her cheek into my chest, maybe reach a hand down my shirt, but now, she was pushing her body away from my own, reaching back for Edward.

Through her sobs, she was babbling something, and though I couldn't quite make it out, Edward could. As I let him take her once more, he murmured, a big hand tracing circles on her little back, "That's right, Nessie girl. I'm your daddy."

.

Edward stayed for dinner.

I reheated some sweet potato I'd baked for Renesmee the day previous—her favorite food right now—and cubed some cheese while they read a couple books in the next room. Once in awhile, I heard Nessie hiccup, something she always did after crying jags like that.

While she ate in her high chair, avoiding her avocado entirely—something she'd never taken to—Edward and I both sat in silence, watching her. Every once in awhile, she looked between the two of us and laughed. I wondered what that was all about.

When she was finished, signing 'all done', I got a cloth to wipe her hands and face, and unclipped her high chair tray, taking it to the sink to wash later.

"I'm going to give her a bath," I told Edward as I unbuckled and hoisted her into my arms. Finally she was accepting my comfort again. Now I found it hard to meet his eyes as I continued, "You could hang on a bit and stay for dinner, or you could sneak out while she's distracted…"

"Can I stay?" he asked, and relieved, I met his eyes.

"Yeah. I'll just be half an hour or so. The TV remote is on the coffee table if you want to watch something while you wait."

He nodded, eyes still on me. I could still feel them on me as I turned my back and headed toward the washroom to run Renesmee's bath.

.

**Edward**

I waited forty-five minutes for Bella, though I caught a cute shot of a towel-wrapped, soaked baby as she took her from the washroom to her bedroom somewhere after the twenty-minute mark.

I stared blankly at the television screen, unable to even comprehend what was showing. I was distracted, too caught up, in the fact that this was how my evenings should be, spent like this: watching Renesmee eat, maybe helping with a bath here and there, helping to tuck her in. I supposed other nights could be spent just like this, waiting for Bella, that time of day we'd have all to ourselves.

After awhile, I heard Renesmee's bedroom door click shut, and I turned to glance at Bella. Her hair, which had been loose and flowing throughout the day, was now tied messily behind her head. She was wearing only a tank top, and I wondered if the lacy top she'd been wearing over it had gotten soaked during bath time. She looked tired, but somehow wide awake, at the very same time.

"Sorry I took so long," she apologized, tugging on her tank top straps. "Ready to eat?"

I nodded, and pushed myself up off the couch, following her into the kitchen. I watched her take out a container from the refrigerator, filled with what looked like leftovers.

"Quinoa salad," she explained as she set it on the counter and pulled a serving spoon from one of the drawers. "It has onion, garlic, bell peppers, tomato, a little bit of jalapeno, lime, cilantro, cumin, olive oil…"

"Sounds great," I said. Honestly, anything sounded great right about now. I was starving.

I watched the muscles in her back shift as she reached into a higher cupboard for a few plates. So suddenly she turned to glance at me over her shoulder, I didn't have time to look away. She paused with her mouth open, and I tried to compose whatever expression was playing across my face.

Finally, meek and shy sounding, she said, "There's salsa and sour cream in the door of the fridge. Could you pull those out?"

Clearing my throat, I nodded, forcing myself to turn away, toward the fridge door. I retrieved the things she asked me to and followed her to the table, setting them down next to the container of quinoa salad.

"I usually eat mine on a tortilla wrap," she said, carrying a package of those, and a bag of corn chips, over. "But it's also really good on corn chips. You pick for yourself." She placed both bags down on the table and stood with her hands on her hips for a second. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure," I said, "Wat—"

"I think Lana left me a bottle of wine," she interrupted, turning to go back into the kitchen, "It's really good. A sweeter kind. Do you want a glass?"

"Uh, okay," I called. So I guessed Bella drank wine. When she brought back two glasses, half filled, I noted my observation.

She smiled, a little sheepishly, I thought, as she finally settled into the chair across from me. "Hey, kids in Italy drink wine."

"Really?"

"I thought so." She shook her head. "It's really not all that often. Never more than once or twice a month, I would say."

"Oh, good," I quipped, waiting for her to serve herself first, "I wouldn't want the mother of my child to go all alcoholic on me."

She snickered as she peeled a tortilla off the stack and slapped it on her plate. "No need to worry about that," she assured me, scooping some of the salad mixture down the middle, and then salsa and sour cream on top.

I copied her, unfamiliar with the new meal, and took a bite.

"Wow," I enthused, once I'd chewed and swallowed, "This is really good, Bella."

She shrugged, sipping her wine. "It's really healthy, too. And super easy to make. Just a lot of chopping. My thumbs always burn for days after I cut up the jalapeno."

"You should wear plastic gloves," I advised, "That helps."

She grinned at me over her plate, the grin that used to nearly stop my heart… Make that still did. "Thanks, Mr. Super Chef."

"Hey," I said, laughing, "Only trying to offer you a bit of advice."

She nodded. "I know. Thanks."

.

After we ate, I helped her wash the dishes—no dishwasher—and put them away once we'd towel dried.

"You're living quite the old fashioned life here," I teased. "No dishwasher?"

Bella shrugged, stacking a couple plates and sliding them back into the cupboard, having that same effect on me as she stretched up, elongating her body. She looked like she'd never even had a baby. "It bugged me in the beginning, but I got used to it."

I passed her a handful of silverware, and she bumped her hip against mine, to gain access to the drawer I was standing in front. I shifted just slightly, and as she sidled up next to me to put the forks and knives and spoons away, something hummed between us. That tension of closeness after more than a year apart. It was like electricity, washing up the side of my arm that hung closest to her, raising the hairs there. I don't know if she noticed it too, but she hesitated to move away once she closed the drawer.

"Bella?" I said, the mood suddenly serious.

She lifted her eyes to look at me. "What?"

"I'm sorry," I was nearly whispering.

"For what?"

"I… I hate that I wasn't there in the end of the pregnancy, and then the beginning of everything else, and that I didn't try harder. But…" Bravely, I reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "I want to fight for you now. For you and Renesmee. But… especially for you. I can't see her regularly without being with you, Bella. Please don't ask me to do that."

I heard her swallow, so loud in the quiet of her tiny kitchen. "Okay."

My hand was still there, on the side of her neck, stroking the skin with my thumb. "I want you back, Bella. I want to make you happy, and to lead you and Renesmee. I'm still so in love with you."

Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes like butterfly wings. She sighed, her face so close to mine, just inches away.

Before she could open them, or do anything to stop me, I closed that distance and I pressed my lips to hers.

It was like no time had passed between us, no separation, no complicated break-up, nothing. The shape of her mouth was just as I remembered it.

For an instant, she froze underneath my kiss, obviously surprised, but then her hands came up to my shoulders, her body turning into mine, and she was kissing me back.

My hands went to her waist, pulling her closer, and around her back, pressing her into my chest. Even this proximity wasn't enough. I wanted her closer still, so close that we would never have to separate, to part.

When I felt her tongue on my bottom lip, though, I knew we needed to stop. I broke the kiss, bringing my hands up to cradle her face—or maybe it was to restrain her. Bella pressed her forehead to mine, panting hard, fingers fisted in the material of my t-shirt.

For a long time, we didn't say anything, just took a couple minutes to catch our breath.

"Okay," she finally breathed, and opened her eyes, "Okay." Her hands released my shirt, and she pulled back, turning completely away, her back to me. "Oh, wow…"

"Are you okay?" I asked her, tentative to reach out to touch her.

She nodded. "I'm okay," she answered, and finally turned to look at me again. "I'm done fighting," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I fought your love for so long. But I'm done fighting now. I'm… I'm done." She laughed a breathless laugh and came to me, kissing me again, much more innocently this time. Her arms went around my neck, and she touched her forehead to mine again. "I want to be with you too, Edward. I… I'm crazy about you. I always have been. And I don't think that's going to change."

Left speechless, I could only wrap my arms around her and hold her.


	24. Begin Again

**Bella**

When I first woke up the next morning, I almost thought the entirety of yesterday had been some sort of dream. But when I rolled over and picked up my phone to check the time, there was a text from Edward confirming that yesterday had absolutely happened.

_Good morning, beautiful,_ it said, _Just wanted to wish you and Nessie a great day. Looking forward to the next time I can see you both :)_

I sighed, propping myself up on one elbow, unable to hide my silly, girlish grin. He used to text me like this most mornings in high school, back when we were dating… Were we dating now? Were we 'together'? What did he want to call it? I guessed we'd have to talk about that.

I had enough time to send him a quick text message back, make my bed, wash my face and brush my teeth before I heard Renesmee stirring on the monitor. I usually gave her a couple minutes in the morning to decide whether she wanted to get up or sleep for a while more. She wasn't calling for me, so I wasn't concerned.

In a better mood than I had been in for awhile, I decided to make French Toast for breakfast, just because I wanted to do something nice and fun for my daughter.

While I was whisking together the egg mixture, Renesmee began to babble incoherently over the monitor. Sooner rather than later, as I was frying the bread, her unintelligible words became articulate.

"Mama, Daddy, Mama, Daddy…"

.

With all the events that had transpired since noon yesterday, I'd almost forgotten I was meeting Angela for coffee at nine. We stumbled into the toddler-friendly coffee shop at ten past the hour. For a Monday morning, the place was curiously empty. Usually it was teeming with moms and kids this time of day. There was only one other duo meeting this morning, and both their toddlers were asleep in their strollers.

As a result, it wasn't hard to spot Angela and Kai in the corner in back of the shop. On a table nearby sat Angela's bag and coffee.

I led Renesmee over to them by the hand before I went to order my own coffee.

"Morning!" I called, and Angela turned to glance over her shoulder at us, a smile lighting up her face immediately.

"Hi," she called back, "How are you guys?"

"We're great," I said as Renesmee toddled over to Kai and gave him a hug—something she did every time she saw him.

"Hi, Nessie," Angela said to my daughter, looking her straight in the eye and smiling. "How are you?"

"Hi," Renesmee paused to say, before a rather noisy xylophone diverted her attention.

Once I'd gotten my coffee, Angela and I moved to the table, leaving the kids to play on the floor, something they had no problem with. We were lucky that neither of them had yet developed the infamous 'Mine' attitude of a typical toddler. Yet.

I took a sip of my coffee before I noticed Angela staring at me. "What?" I asked.

Her eyes narrowed curiously, and she pointed a finger at me. "Something happened."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're acting totally different," she explained, "Dreamy and dazed and happy… Did you and Edward talk or something?"

"We did more than talk." I tucked my hair behind my ear, unable to help allowing the words to slip from my lips.

Angela just stared at me, waiting for an explanation. She wasn't exactly one to pry, per se, but it would be difficult to fight the curiosity on this one, I had to admit.

"He called me after church let out yesterday," I started, glancing over at Renesmee and Kai, who were each playing in their own little worlds, "and asked if he could come over, to see Nessie and me. I said yes, so he came over and played for the afternoon, but when he went to leave before dinner, Renesmee had a complete meltdown."

"Wow. Over what?"

I shrugged, rubbing my palms against the paper outside of my coffee cup. "I don't know. I guess she didn't want Edward to leave or something, and then… then he called himself her daddy, and…" Again I shrugged. "My walls kind of came crashing down. I just surrendered to the idea of us being together again, and being there to parent Nessie together, and I realized that none of this had been a decision I had had to think through; it kind of just all… happened."

"Wow, Bella," she said, and took another sip of her coffee.

"I'd been talking to God about it a lot, and was asking him every day to show me signs that we were meant to be together, and I guess in that moment, I just took that as one of the huge signs."

"So then what?"

"Then… He stayed for dinner, and I put Nessie to bed, and…" I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks go pink.

"And…?" She was excited now, and I was guessing she'd made a couple of assumptions on her own already. It wasn't hard to guess.

"And," I said, shrugging yet again, "we kissed."

"Yes!" she squealed, and both kids looked up, as well as one of the moms from across the room. The other one did a better job at hiding her surprise at my friend's outburst. "Finally! Oh, Bella, that is just _so___awesome. I've been praying about this for so long. You don't even know."

I laughed. "It's good to know so many people were rooting for us."

Angela grinned and reached across the table to pat my hands, quick and short. "I'm really happy for you," she said, "genuinely and sincerely. Now. When do I get to meet him?"

I shook my head, honestly giddy with my friend's happiness for us. It was nice to know she thought there was more there than just a young people infatuation thing amplified by the fact that we've had a baby together. "I don't know. I'll ask him if he wants to come to church on Sunday. Maybe you can meet him then. We still have a lot to talk about, though."

"Like what?"

"Well… I don't even know what we are… Like, are we together? Are we dating? Can I call him my boyfriend now? Once you've kissed and admitted you're in love with each other, does it just happen like that?"

Angela laughed and shrugged. "That's the way it kind of happened for me and Ben. How did it happen the first time?"

"Well, he asked me out on a couple dates. And then he kind of just… claimed me as his one night after a date. Pretty much just asked me to be his girlfriend, and that was it."

Angela laughed, and in my cloud nine giddiness, I couldn't help but join in. "Well… Just ask him next time you talk. Just be like, 'So what are we now?'. I'm sure you're classified as a couple now, but it's always good to just, y'know, be on the same page and everything."

I nodded and sipped my coffee again. I was sure, too.

**Edward**

Working as a landscaper in the summer had its ups. It also had its downs. I liked the fact that, though I had to get up early, my days were usually finished by four o' clock, and then I had plenty of time in the evening to do pretty much whatever I wanted to. Now that I knew I lived a mere half hour drive from where Bella was, it comforted me to know that I would be able to visit her and Renesmee whenever I wanted—within reason, I supposed.

Another plus was that I worked for a really cool supervisor. His name was Lester and he was Jasper's uncle. Lester owned his own landscaping company, and was pretty successful. Because he lived in an area where the climate was hardly ever unsuitable for working—I mean, I guess he had to deal with rain in the winter—he was able to do what he did all year round. Lester's company, therefore, was pretty successful, and I'd reaped the fruits of its labor in the last few months.

The downs were that it was hot and vicious outdoors during Florida summers, and I usually ended the day sweaty and smelly and dehydrated—because I never drank enough water throughout the day.

For now, though, it was lunch break, and I was seated on the edge of the stone wall we were working into someone's backyard garden. Our clients of the week were the Janzens, a big family with lots of kids, and I thought the dad worked from home. The family's yard looked out on a manmade lake, a pathway separating them from the water by only ten paces or so. On days like today, I wished I could go for a swim.

"How was your night?"

I took a swig of soda as Jasper approached, his brown paper lunch in his fist. He sprawled out on the grass next to me, adjusting the brim of his hat so that he could look up at me, and not be blinded by the sun. Working with Jasper was cool. Sometimes it was hard, because we both lived and worked together, but he was a pretty chill guy. Usually we knew our boundaries, and stuck to working on opposite sides of the site. It was always nice to be able to have a frank discussion with one of my buddies, though. Emmett was more of a partier, not much for talking—or listening—and more often than not left us home alone on weeknights and weekends, off having a good time somewhere.

That personally wasn't my kind of scene, though I didn't have a problem with Emmett himself, and I don't think Jasper was exactly a fan of twenty-four hour hangovers himself. We bonded over that.

Plus, I owed the guy for hooking me up with a job that I, surprisingly, loved.

"My night was great," I said.

"I, uh, had expected you to be home in the afternoon, but I don't think you ever showed up. Where'd you go?"

"I headed over to Bella's place, spent some time with her and Renesmee." Jasper knew more about my situation with my girls than Emmett did, just because I felt more comfortable opening up to him. In all senses of the word, Jasper was pretty smooth, and when he offered his advice or opinion, it was always well thought out and put together—whereas Emmett really didn't have much of a filter when it came to things like that.

"Really? How'd you score that?" he asked. He knew just how much this meant to me. After I'd come home—and scored an easy in to the landscaping job—subsequent to Renesmee's birthday party and mine and Bella's date, I talked to the guys about it. How I wanted her back, and how I wanted to work for her, that I'd do all it took. So far, all they had known was that we'd had a date, we'd talked about our issues a little bit, and Bella had been hesitant to start anything up again in case we didn't work out, because she didn't want to hurt Renesmee. So this whole new development must have been a surprise to him.

I shrugged. "I called her after church, and asked if I could come over. She said yes, we hung out all afternoon, Bella put Renesmee to bed, and we hung out for a bit after that."

"Just hung out?" I guess he could tell I was holding back on something. Jasper was more perceptive than he let on.

I shrugged. "I don't know. We talked about a couple things again, I made my intentions clear… I kissed her. She… kissed me back."

"That a boy, my man!" Jasper enthused, punching me in the leg, grinning smugly.

I laughed. "I'm feeling pretty great about the whole thing, actually. She admitted that she's in love with me, finally, and… We're back in it now."

"Now all's that's left to is marry her, huh?" Jasper asked, winking.

I knew he meant it as a joke, and I forced a laugh, but honestly, how long did I have to wait to ask?

**Bella**

Edward called while Renesmee was in the bath.

"Hello?" I asked, holding up the shower curtain as a sort of splashguard. Nessie thought this was hilarious and splashed more violently, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"Hi," Edward said, laughing. "What is going on over there?"

"Bath time," I said, "You missed out on how she usually is the other night." Last night. How had it only been one day?

Again, he laughed, and I wish I could make joke after joke after joke, so that I could hear him laugh again and again. I didn't realize I was smiling until I glanced up into the suction-cup mirror we kept stuck to the tile wall and saw my own reflection.

"So how was your day?" he asked now, and I rested my back to the wall, watching Renesmee stick foam letters to the sides of the bathtub. A 'B', and then a 'T', and two 'R's, side by side. If I hadn't been on the phone, I would have pointed out each one, to begin to teach her. Renesmee was accelerated for her age, she had been from birth. This was proven to be true by her accelerated speech and the fact that she'd been walking since she was nine months old.

"My day was good," I told Edward now. "I had coffee this morning with a friend—"

"And gushed about me, I'm sure." I could hear the teasing lilt in his tone.

In surprise, laughter spilled from me, high-pitched and girly sounding. "Well, _gushed_ is kind of an overstatement," I replied, "but I did talk about you." The next part of my sentence sounded shy and meek, and I realized I was blushing.

"I talked about you today, too," he said, his voice low as well, though it didn't sound as embarrassed as mine, just intimate. "What did you tell your friend about me?"

I picked at a loose thread on the shag bath mat as I said, "Well, I told her that we kissed, and that I told you I'm in love with you… And then she asked what you are to me," I finished, paraphrasing just a little bit, in order to transition into the subject I'd been wanting to talk about.

"And what did you say?" His voice was still low, and it brought back so many memories, some good to dwell on, some not so much…

"I said… I didn't know. I'd guess I'd call you my boyfriend."

"I suppose you could call me that," he agreed, though he sounded a little against the term.

"Well, what else would I call you?" I asked, sincerely wanting to know now.

I could almost see him shrug as, on the other end of the line, too far away, he said, "Well, to me, you're much more than a 'girlfriend'. I'm guessing it's the same way for you. You could call me your fiancé." At this last part, his tone got light and playful.

I giggled. "Wow, jumping the gun a little, aren't we?" I joked, or at least tried to; because part of me knew what he was saying was dead true.

"Well, we've already had a baby together," Edward said, his tone still light, still playful, "I would call that jumping the gun a little."

I took a breath, trying to be serious now, trying to think of how to tell him what I was trying to say without being offensive, or putting him off.

"What?" he asked, obviously having heard me inhale. "Suddenly you're serious."

"I…" I paused. _It's nothing_, I wanted to say, but I forced myself to clamp my lips against those words. It wasn't nothing. It was definitely something. "It's just," I restarted, "I know it feels like we're ready to take on the world now that we're back together. But…"

"But?"

"We just… _I_ just want to wait a little while. I know it'll happen one day. I don't have any doubts about that. But let's… Let's give people a little bit more of an impression that we've got a good foundation. There are still lots of things we both need to prove to each other."

For a second, it sounded like Edward was going to protest; but then he seemed to stop himself and murmured, "You're right."

I smiled. "I know I am. Besides," I added, joking again, hoping to lighten the mood once more, "You can't propose over the phone. I expect something a little more extravagant than that."

It worked. He laughed, and then he sighed. "I guess I should let you go. Can I say hi to Nessie?"

"Of course," I said, and pressed the speakerphone button so that Renesmee could join in on the call without getting my phone wet. "Say 'hi'," I coached in a whisper.

"Hi!" she yelled, and then looked at me with her palms open. _Who is it, Mommy?_

"Hi, Renesmee," he called back, "It's Daddy. How are you?"

Nessie squealed with laughter, and clapped her wet little palms together. "Daddy!" she shrieked.

Edward and I both laughed.

"Well," he said, "I should hang up so you can get that rascal to bed."

"Okay," I said, "Talk to you later."

"Talk to you soon, Bella," he said, and then, "Love you girls."

"We love you too."


	25. Convince Me

**Bella**

In the church parking lot on Sunday morning, Edward slung Renesmee across his shoulders like a backpack. She clamped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his torso as best she could, giggling. They bounced along a few feet ahead of me, Nessie's curls bounding right along with them.

I giggled, adjusting the mint-colored cardigan I wore over my tank top as I followed along behind.

"C'mon, slow poke!" Edward called over his shoulder at me, "We'll be late for church!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I responded, laughing and tripping over my ballet flats as I hurried to catch up with them.

Casually, as if was nothing, Edward gripped my hand in his, the other still holding our daughter securely to his back. We let our linked hands swing between us as we headed up to the doors of the church.

Renesmee began to wiggle as soon as we were inside, and I pulled her off Edward's back so she could toddle on her own.

Almost immediately, as I managed to shake Nessie's cardigan off her shoulders, I spotted Angela coming down the way, walking Kai in front of her. She grinned up at me, calling out a friendly, 'Hi!'

"Hey!" I called back, as Edward threw Renesmee's cardigan over the hanger with his jacket, waving her over.

"How's it going?" she asked, deftly maneuvering an empty gum wrapper out of Samuel's eager hands—and, just in time, mouth.

"Good! Hey, I'd like you to meet Edward."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Angela," she said, thrusting out a hand.

"Edward," he responded, shaking her hand, exuding this extreme confidence and ease around my new church friend.

Meanwhile, I remembered Renesmee and glanced around Angela's elbow to scout her out.

"No, no, no, no!" I cried, taking off like a bullet toward my daughter who was, in that very moment, digging her hands completely into the soil in a nearby potted plant. She looked up at me, startled, holding out her hands as I came up on her, scooping her into my arms.

"Yucky!" I said, holding both her hands in one of mine, shaking them slightly back into the soil as best I could.

"Yucky?" she repeated, putting up no fight whatsoever as I took her back over to Edward and Angela, who seemed fine on their own.

"Yeah," I said, twisting up my face, "Yucky. Blech." Wordlessly, I handed Nessie to Edward, careful to keep her hands so that she wouldn't smear any leftover dirt on her soft pink dress she'd only just received at her birthday party.

"Blech," she said to Edward, sticking out her tongue in the same way I had.

"I guess so," Edward surmised, lifting his eyebrows at her.

When she imitated him—I caught it out of the corner of my eye as I rooted through the diaper bag for the wipes—we all burst out laughing.

"Welcome to parent life," Angela said to Edward, as I struggled to wipe Nessie's hands clean of all semblances of dirt.

He grinned.

.

Everyone at church received Edward wonderfully. No one who knew anything held a thing against him. Everyone welcomed him with open arms, and as far as I knew, no one was looking on our love child with any contempt—not that they had when I first started attending the church.

Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield kept Edward for nearly half an hour, discussing his work—he did landscaping with his roommate's uncle's company between semesters. Apparently Mr. Wakefield had owned his own landscaping company in his younger years. Edward didn't seem to mind being kept the extra time, and honestly neither did I, but Renesmee had fallen asleep on my shoulder ten minutes into the conversation, and she was getting heavy.

When we finally extracted ourselves from the conversation, we headed out to Edward's blazer. Nessie was still sleeping, and I managed to strap her into the car seat in the back—the car seat Edward had purchased for his own vehicle—without waking her. This was quite a rarity. Renesmee hardly slept through car seat-stroller switches, and the minute the ignition would go dead, she'd be wide awake. Today, however, it seemed she'd sleep through anything.

I was even more surprised, as Edward pulled up behind the house and shut off the car, when she still didn't wake, only shifted from one side of her seat to the other. I'd been prepared to entertain her for the afternoon—because once she was woken from a nap, even if it was only ten minutes in duration, she'd never go down again. However, I managed to ease her out of the car seat, get into the suite, and lay her down in her crib, without a peep or an eye blink on her part.

When I emerged from her bedroom, receiving monitor in hand, I found Edward on the couch, arms behind his head, feet kicked up on the coffee table. His button shirt had wrinkled slightly since this morning, but somehow he made it look good.

"I'm shocked," I said, easing myself onto the cushion next to him, not too close, but not awkwardly far away, either. "She never sleeps through a car ride like that. You must be my lucky charm."

Edward smirked, turning his eyes on me, and shook his head. "No way. You two are definitely my lucky charms."

I grinned, leaning forward to set the monitor on the coffee table. "Stop before you get cheesy," I teased, and when I leaned back into the couch, Edward threw his arm around me, pulling me into his chest. He didn't bother to point out that I'd started the whole 'lucky charm' thing.

For a second I was surprised, but quickly relaxed, pressing my cheek to his sternum, listening to his heart beat under my ear. We stayed that way for a few silent moments, listening to the sounds of the other breathing.

I always cherished moments like these. Moments where we could just sit and be together, to reflect on how blessed we truly were by the other. During these times, I couldn't deny that little pings of regret didn't come to me, because they did. It always came into my mind, I was always asking myself how I could just leave him like that, deny him the opportunity to watch Renesmee grow in her first year. But the guilty thoughts were always soothed by the reminder that he was here now, and he would be able to see the next however many years we had with her.

As I thought this, I felt the warmth of Edward's lips on my hair. His breath washed over my scalp, and it tickled. I shifted, tilting my chin up to look at him. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with this expression, this unbelieving, awed expression. It always made me blush. I felt my cheeks go pink now.

"What?"

Edward shook his head, seeming to mull over the thoughts in his head for a moment. "You're just so beautiful."

I laughed softly. "Oh, stop."

"It's true, Bella," he said, one of his hands coming up to cradle my face, softly, gently. "I thank God every day for letting me back into your life. You don't know how 'found' you've made me feel. I belong to something again." Each word he said was whispered, which made this moment extra intimate. I sighed, sinking in to the words he'd said. I felt the same way. For a year I'd been lost, following Christ's leadership in my life, serving and growing for him. I had always felt purpose in that, but always I'd felt there was something missing. Edward was missing. God used him to ground me, in a way. He used him as a puzzle piece in my life, a primary piece, a piece of great importance.

Edward kissed me then, and I allowed myself to kiss him back, for a moment. Pulling back when I felt myself begin to float, to be lost in the moment, I ducked my head under his chin and listened to the now accelerated pace of his heart.

"Sorry," he whispered, and I felt his chin on top of my head.

I shook my head incrementally from where it was pressed against him. "Me too. We have to gain control of that."

"Just marry me," Edward urged, that light, joking tone returning, "and then I can kiss you whenever and however and for however long I want."

Exhaling through my nose and closing my eyes, I grinned. "The Lord needs to teach you some patience, Mr. Cullen."

.

**Edward**

"So how are things going down there, son?"

My father's voice floated across the phone lines like a wave, soothing and steady and constant. Since Bella and I had gotten back together, I'd spoken with my parents—but mostly my dad—nearly every evening. People say that when you grow up and move away, you need your parents less. In some ways I'd attest, but in others I'd totally disagree. I needed them less in financial aspects, maybe, wasn't as dependable on them for shelter or food, but I was finding I required my parents' guidance more and more all the time, maybe because now I was coming to realize just how valuable it was. I needed their guidance and prayer for my spiritual life, their encouragement in my commitment to my work life, but especially their guidance pertaining to my relationship with Bella.

"Good," I said now, finally replying to my father's question. It was quiet on his end, and I wondered if he was sitting behind his desk in his office, where he usually was in the evenings, always researching or reading, or studying his Bible. I wished I could sit there with him now and have this conversation.

Apparently my answer wasn't very convincing, because I could almost see my dad lift an eyebrow in speculation. "I'm not convinced you're telling the truth," I heard him say.

I sighed, unable to fight back my smile. That's my dad, always seeing right through me as if I were a window. "I just, I mean… Things really are great. They are. I get to see Bella and Nessie all the time now, every week. I get to see Nessie learn and grow, and I get to see Bella get more and more beautiful every single day. I get to hold them and kiss them and hug them… Work's awesome too. Keeping busy, doing lots. It's just… I don't know." I paused, and my dad waited for me to continue. "Do you think I'm too impatient sometimes, Dad?"

"I think impatience is part of our frail human nature," was his reply.

"But do you think _I_ am? Do you think I push for things too soon, or… I don't know, get so focused on one thing, on an end goal, that it's hard for me to see the details between here and there?"

"What are you getting at, son?" he inquired, and I heard the squeak of his leather chair as he shifted positions, confirming my suspicion that he was, in fact, hidden away in his office.

"I just… Now that Bella and I are finally back together, and I'm finally seeing Renesmee again and everything… I just don't see the point in going through the silly little semantics of dating for, y'know, a year, and waiting, and getting to know each other, and… All that. I just want to marry her already."

My dad was quiet for a minute. I imagined him stroking his chin, deep in thought, puzzle piecing the words together in his mind. Finally, he spoke again: "Edward, I think both you and Bella have changed a whole lot in this past year. That doesn't mean you don't know each other. I would just venture to say that you still have a lot of new things to learn about her."

I couldn't deny that his words didn't frustrate me, even if I'd seen them coming. "I'm just so in love with her, Dad. I waited so long for God to answer my prayers, and he's finally done that, and… I just know that I'm going to marry her one day, Dad. I'm one hundred percent sure of that."

"One day, Edward," he emphasized, "That doesn't mean tomorrow, or next week. You need to take it one day at a time. As a man, you need to show Bella that you can lead her and Renesmee as the head of a godly home. You need to show her your commitment in more than just a pretty diamond ring. You need to read your Bible and always be striving to become a better man in Christ, so that you can be a better man for them. You need to pray for them, and pray for God to stretch you. You need to be ready to do what God asks of you, and you need to be prepared to shoulder the responsibility of a family."

"I'm ready for that," I said, hearing the conviction in my own voice, recognizing it and being proud of it. "I do pray for them, I'm reading my Bible all the time, I'm always talking to God, and asking him to grow me for them."

Again, he was quiet, and it drove me crazy not knowing what he was thinking.

Finally, "I don't doubt the strength of your commitment, Edward. I see how strong a man you are in Christ, how strengthened your faith has been in this last year. But it's not me you have to convince."


	26. Taking The Leap

**Bella**

A few months passed, in a blur I could barely comprehend. I watched Renesmee grow alongside Edward. I watched her run, and learn more words, and come to know the color blue. I watched Edward guide her on those Sunday afternoons. I watched him sit cross legged on the floor in front of her, watch her struggle to mash a star shaped block into a square shaped slot, and finally point the correct pocket out.

"Try putting it here," he suggested.

I watched how his weekly Sunday arrivals before church would light up her eyes, and she'd squeal and bound across the yard toward him, and he'd scoop her up and spin her in the air and plant a messy kiss on her cheek, squishing her adorable little face. It was amazing to me how unconditionally she loved him; how open armed she'd welcomed him in.

It was as if this whole time, she'd known he was her dad. Renesmee had never had any hesitations with Edward, which in the beginning had shocked and confused me. She'd never acted around another man the way she acted around Edward. Not even my own dad. But then it began to dawn on me that maybe this was a God thing. Maybe He'd instilled in my daughter's tiny heart a trust for this man, a knowing that he loved her, that he would be there for her no matter what.

This realization hit me many times, and it always brought such a peace to my heart, knowing how complete their love was for each other, Edward and my Nessie.

And then to know that Edward loved me just as much. At the start, I'd bantered back and forth between thoughts, vacillating like the tides of the ocean in the midst of the nights where I needed my sleep most. In the beginning it was easy to assume the excitement of coming back into my life had contributed to his head over feelings for me in a big way. But it was the end of August now, and he hadn't seemed to change a bit.

However, it wasn't just his emotions for me, the way he looked at me, or how tenderly he'd kiss me in the doorway on Sunday evenings. This contributed a lot, of course, but the stability of our love, the way I knew it was true, was how he kept proving it to me over and over. It truly was in the little things where it really mattered. It was how he served me, and how he honored me. It was how he would take Renesmee to the park on some afternoons so I could clean or just have some time to myself. It was how he _never_ pushed for more physically, even though I knew he desired to, because I knew how strong my desire was in that area. To physically restrain ourselves in our relationship, after having been fused together every way possible, creating another human being between the two of us, it was a struggle to stay pure after that. All the time, parts of me thought, 'Why not? You've already done it. What's the difference? You'll marry him anyway. He'll be the only one anyway'. Time and time again we would discuss our struggles, and talk through them—sometimes on separate ends of the couch when the urge was too strong. Time and time again we came to the conclusion that our restraint was for God's glory. Deep down, I knew how it would potentially ruin us, when neither of us truly wanted that in our relationship.

Ideally, I would have waited for the night I got married to give myself away. Obviously, circumstances in my life hadn't worked out for me in that way, but it flattered me time and time again that Edward was strong enough to resist over and over; to set boundaries, to pull away from kisses that built in intensity too quickly before I could.

I loved that he took the initiative in our relationship to always pray over any meal we had, and how he would always pray for Renesmee before we put her to bed on Sunday evenings. In the door, he would always say a prayer for me, and I knew that it didn't end there. He was praying for us all the time, and that was something that I felt so intensely deep down in my heart. I felt so honored and so loved, knowing that he did that.

I constantly felt protected and built up in the strength of his prayers for us, though they weren't something I heard all the time. But I knew, without an inkling of a doubt, that they were being said.

.

**Edward**

It was early Friday morning, the sun just coming over the horizon. I had my bag packed and in the trunk of the blazer. It was Labor Day weekend, and I was taking Bella and Nessie home to _finally_ introduce our daughter to my parents. Needless to say, I was a little nervous. I'd been up most of the night, lying on my back, wondering about the situation, wondering how it would pan out.

There were other reasons I was nervous, though.

In the last few months, I'd strived to prove to Bella just how serious I was about the two of us, the three of us. I'd been praying and studying and growing, I could feel it. In recent conversations, I'd learned the affect it was having on her. I could only begin to hope that I could be strong enough to keep up with how I was treating them.

I knew how lucky I was to have them; I was truly grateful for it. I didn't think I'd ever feel any hesitance about the situation I had been way back in the pregnancy. I knew I would never take them for granted again. The effort I would continue to produce was largely in part by my motivation, but mostly by the stirrings of God in my heart.

I wanted them to always know how much I loved them, and I wanted to always be able to show it.

As a product of these conclusions, I'd felt the timing was right and had visited a local jeweler's shop last Saturday. Now, at the bottom of my back, in a little dark green box, nestled in a silk cushion, sat a newly polished, size five, circle cut solitaire diamond engagement ring. The diamond was a good size, and holy cow was it shiny, but the band was thin, delicate enough to balance it out on Bella's tiny hand.

It was difficult enough knowing the stress the weekend ahead held in Nessie meeting my parents. Would she take to them as easily as she'd taken to me? Would she favor one over the other, therefore offending one of them; or even worse, would she not take to either of them?

I shook my head, forcing the anxieties aside. Everything would play out exactly as God saw fit. It just might take more warming up for Renesmee to get used to her new set of grandparents.

What was plaguing me more was the impending proposal. After all these months, I'd known Bella and I were growing closer and closer. There had been new things to learn and discover about the other, of course, but we had also found that many things had stayed the same. I was pretty sure I knew what the outcome of the night would be, but could anyone really guarantee she'd say 'yes'?

.

I stopped on the way to pick up an energy drink. I didn't cave to the craving very often, but subsequent to my nearly sleepless night, I needed the extra boost. I cracked it open and took my first sip as I pulled out of the parking lot, headed toward the main highway.

Traffic was surprisingly light for the Friday morning of the long weekend. I guessed I'd expected more people to take the extra day off like I had. This left less room to have to concentrate on the flow of things, and more time to get lost in my thoughts once more.

I thought back to last night, when I'd called Bella's parents to ask permission. Ideally I would have liked to do it in person, but what really mattered to me in the end was that I got their permission. The phone call had gone better than I had thought it would. They'd bestowed their blessing on me, which was more than I could ask for. Bella's mom, especially, had seemed so excited. She'd said that she'd been rooting for us since she found out about the pregnancy, hoping we'd be able to stand the winds of adversity, and though we'd been apart for awhile, our coming back together had been written in the stars, she'd known it.

Phil had been more on the quiet side, pondering and humming and hawing. It struck me, over the course of the phone call, how difficult it would one day be for me to give Renesmee away to some man who asked. I felt so entirely responsible for her, even now, and protective beyond words. I never wanted anyone to hurt her, and I knew how hard it would be to hand over my trust so completely to another man. One day it would no longer be my responsibility to care for her and protect her and show her how a man was to treat her. One day it would happen, and though this day loomed many years away, it was difficult for me to think about it even now.

All the same, it relieved me to no one end when he'd given his approval as well.

Clearing his throat he'd said, "I know you'll take care of them, Edward. May God bless your future together."

"Thank you, sir," I'd said quietly, abruptly overwhelmed with emotion that got stuck in my throat.

Now, as the sun rose higher, I pulled into Bella's neighborhood, turning into the alleyway behind the house she shared with her mom's cousin and her husband. I'd met them a number of times, as their son Harrison and Nessie loved to play together.

The sun reflected off the sliding door to Bella's house. The basement suite in Lana and Mark's house was so nice, I was always forgetting that it was simply another person's basement. It was built exactly like a tiny apartment, complete with a full kitchen, and even an extra washer and dryer in the storage room.

I barely had time to step up to the door before it opened and Bella appeared in the doorway, squinting in the early morning sunshine. She shaded her eyes with her left hand—a left hand that would soon be claimed, hopefully, and grinned at me.

"Morning, stranger," she greeted, and stretched up on her toes to kiss me chastely on the lips.

"Hi," I greeted, stepping into the house as she moved back, allowing my passage. Over in the dining area, Renesmee was making a mess of herself with a pot of yogurt and a baby spoon. Bella seemed to have thought ahead and had her stripped down to her diaper and a bib. "Good morning, Nessie," I said to her, grimacing as she threw her hands up, rubbing yogurt through her hair.

"Hi!" she yelled, grinning with her seven teeth at me.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast?" I asked, as Bella ducked back into her bedroom, I assumed to grab the bags.

"Gogur," she said, lifting the pot of strawberry yogurt into the air.

"Yeah, yogurt," I said, going to meet Bella halfway as she struggled with the suitcase she was lugging across the living room. "I'll go put this in the car. Anything else you need?" I asked.

"I'll put the things by the door," Bella said and I ducked back out into the early morning, steadily growing warmer. I tucked the suitcase in with my duffel bag, and after I came back for the playpen and stroller, Bella had cleaned Nessie up and slipped her into a pair of pajamas.

"I always put her in pajamas to travel," she explained, passing me the wiped down booster seat, "It's just easier because she's more comfortable, and she usually falls asleep."

"That's always a plus," I said, grinning, and stepped out the door again to put the final addition in the trunk.

A couple minutes later, Renesmee was strapped into her car seat and sipping on a cup of milk, Bella was buckled into the seat next to me, and we were off.


	27. Yes

**Edward**

When we pulled into my parents' driveway, I could almost see my mom lurking behind the front door. As I climbed out of the driver's seat and rounded to the trunk—and Bella rounded to unbuckle Renesmee from her seat—the front door opened and my mom and dad stepped out onto the front porch.

"Hey there!" my dad called, lifting one hand to wave at us.

"Hi!" I called back. Bella was too occupied waking a slumbering toddler to deal with small details such as greeting my parents.

"Need any help?" my dad asked, starting down the steps, and I glanced warily over at Bella who was now pulling a groggy Renesmee into her arms.

"Sure," she called, and my dad took her suitcase and the booster seat from me as I passed it to him. Bella carried Renesmee around the car as I gathered the rest of the things, leaving the stroller behind to her encouragement, and we went up to the front of the house together.

My parents waited there, filled with anticipation. I could see it in the way my mom's hands were clasped in front of her, and the broad smile on my dad's face. As we climbed the stairs to them, I turned to look at Renesmee, who wasn't cowering into Bella's neck, but instead appraising her grandparents with curious, open eyes.

"Renesmee," I said, reaching for her. She came to me willingly. "I'd like you to meet your Mimi and Papa." We'd discussed the names beforehand. Bella and I had left it up to them what they chose to be called. Grandma and Grandpa was out, as Bella's parents had already claimed the name. Besides, my mom had confided in me that she thought that was a little too original.

"Hi, Renesmee," my mom said, smiling softly and reaching out to touch her arm.

Our daughter blinked, her eyes shifting from my mom's face, to my dad's, and back to my mom's.

My mom laughed, glancing over at me. "She doesn't know quite what to think."

"It could take her a couple minutes to warm up," Bella warned from where she stood at my elbow. "Meeting new people is hard for her."

"You're such a pretty little girl," my dad said, brushing two fingers along her cheek. "She's got your lips, Edward," he said, looking up at me.

My mom laughed nervously. "And Edward has _your_ lips, Carlisle," she reminded him.

My dad laughed too, though his sounded more surprised.

Renesmee joined in on the laughter, which made us all chuckle.

"Well," my mom said, "why don't we go inside? Alice is inside waiting. She can't wait to meet her niece."

Bella nodded her consent, and I followed the three of them inside, smiling down at Renesmee encouragingly. She was doing amazingly.

"Alice?" my mom called once we were in the front entrance and the door was shut behind us.

"In here," my sister called from the living room, and we all headed in there.

Renesmee's eyes scanned the room, taking in everything. They finally landed on her aunt, and Alice grinned.

"Hi, baby girl," she said. On the coffee table in front of the couch my sister was sitting on stood a gift.

"Is that for me?" I joked, gesturing to the gift.

Alice glared at me. "Funny."

"Look, Renesmee!" Bella said, pulling her from my arms and setting her on the floor, "Auntie Alice got you a present!"

Renesmee let out an exuberant screech and headed straight for the present, knowing just what to do.

"I figured she deserved a birthday present, as I… Didn't get the chance to go to the party," Alice explained, sinking down onto the floor next to my daughter. Renesmee didn't seem to mind the closeness, but was otherwise distracted by ripping the bright pink paper out of the gift bag. Bella sunk down on the floor close by, but not as close as Alice was sitting.

She pulled out a couple t-shirts, and Bella reached over to hold them up as Renesmee searched in the bag for more. Both of them had silly slogans about aunts, and I laughed. For Alice, that was perfect.

"Thanks, Alice. These are awesome," Bella said, folding the clothes into her lap.

"No problem," Alice said, grinning at Renesmee as she tipped the bag upside down.

"That's it, Ness," Bella said, taking the bag from her so she could put the folded shirts back inside, "Auntie Alice got you two shirts. Isn't that nice? Can you say thank you?"

Renesmee looked over at Alice, as if noticing her for the first time. Maybe she was. Slowly, and then all at once, a smile burst across Renesmee's face.

She went to my sister, throwing her arms around her, still grinning.

"She likes me!" Alice enthused, laughing as she received the hug openly, "She really likes me!"

.

**Bella**

It was later, and I was helping Mrs. Cullen with dinner. I stood by the sink, peeling potatoes, cutting them into chunks and then placing them in the nearby boiler pot.

Alice and Edward had taken Renesmee for a walk to a nearby park. I was glad for it, not having really known if we would use the stroller as much as we thought we would. Plus, it would wind her down from the upbeat, busy afternoon we'd had. I looked forward to not having as long a night ahead of us as I had originally been anticipating.

"So, how are things, Bella?" Edward's mom asked as she passed behind me, touching my elbow.

"They're great," I told her, and I wasn't lying. My life was pretty amazing right now. Things were going far better than I could have planned them. Classes would start again soon; I'd even ventured to take a couple face to face. Lana was offering to babysit—not without a cost, I insisted; she couldn't do _everything_ for me—so that I could take more courses than I'd been able to in the last year.

Mine and Edward's relationship was especially benefiting and flourishing in these past few months. It felt so right to be bringing Renesmee home here, to meet her grandparents and her aunt. For a minute, I almost wanted to feel guilty. It had been far too long for them. They should have had the opportunity to meet her earlier.

I shared these things with her, the second part in more meek a tone than I really wanted it to sound. But I felt especially guilty keeping her from her first granddaughter. There was no excuse for how I'd treated Edward and his family in Renesmee's first year.

"Oh, Bella," Mrs. Cullen said, turning full on to look at me, "you had so much to sort out. I'm sure there were many things on your mind. But we're meeting her now, and that's what's important. She's so beautiful. You've done an amazing job raising her so far."

I smiled, feeling my face heat in embarrassment. "Well, she deserves the best life possible. I wanted that from the beginning. Some days it's really hard. Some days I don't see the point in getting down on the floor and playing with her, or correcting her when she calls something that's blue red, but… It feels so good to see her growing and learning."

Edward's mom nodded, beaming. "When things between you and Edward first starting to come back together, he'd call in the evenings and just rave about how you were with Renesmee. That young man is very in love with you, Bella."

"I know," I said, "I'm in love with him too." There wasn't a quake of doubt in my words. I was fully confident in our love now, fully confident that there was a time where we would be able to live truly as a family, and not just have Edward over here and there.

"It shows," Mrs. Cullen said, and turned her attention back to the refrigerator, where she'd been collecting something.

I turned back to my task too, smiling to myself. Edward and I had been talking about it a lot in these past weeks—the topic of marriage, of making that next step in our relationship. We'd both agreed it was going to happen; we were both very aware that it needed to happen. But we'd also discussed that it didn't have to happen right away, that we could wait awhile, get everyone used to the fact that we were back together in a committed relationship.

For some reason, I had felt that that particular part of the equation hadn't quite pieced together for us, however. Edward hadn't totally seemed to agree, nor had he been adamant about proposing then and there, but I still left the conversation feeling unequal, unbalanced.

Whether he asked today or next year, I knew what my answer would be, so I guessed that really answered the question, but some part of me just wasn't rushed. I felt no need to jump into things right now—aside from the nagging physical desires that kept certain chords between us stretched tight. I could be patient.

.

We went to visit my parents the next day. The three of us loaded into the car and left late in the morning and arrived just in time for lunch. I was so excited to see my parents again after a few months time that I hardly noticed how strange Edward was acting.

He'd been acting much the same the night previous—jumpy, dazed, often lost in thought, with barely an appetite—but I had concluded that it was probably just because he'd been nervous about Renesmee's meeting his parents. Now, though, nearly twenty-four hours later, he was still acting strange and stilted. He didn't answer my parents' questions on time, and he took even longer to answer mine. He stayed right on cue with Renesmee, but ate most of his lunch—a measly portion compared to what he usually ate—in silence, only talking when he was asked something.

After dessert, he pulled me aside, ducking down a dark passage off the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" I blurted before he could say anything. I was starting to get concerned, maybe a little irritated at the way he didn't quite seem so into this visit with my parents.

"I'm fine," he said, his eyes wide, the picture of innocence. "I'm just…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. "Why don't you and Renesmee spend the afternoon here with your parents? I actually set up a date for us tonight, so… Be ready around seven-ish. I'll pick you up. I've already confirmed it with your parents; they can watch Renesmee while we're out."

"Oh," I said, surprised. I hadn't expected the possibility of a date night this weekend. I had assumed we would have been otherwise distracted. "Okay. That sounds great."

"Awesome," Edward said, and leaned over to peck me on the cheek, gripping my tank-topped shoulders with sweaty hands. "I'll see you later then. Love you."

"Love you, too," I said, but I could barely get the words out before he had slipped away from me and was gone.

.

**Edward**

My stomach, which had been in knots since before we'd even left Tallahassee yesterday, was churning by the time six fifty rolled around, and I pulled up in front of Bella's parents' house again. I glanced at the bouquet of red roses I had in the backseat, and at the lone white one that sat next to it. My heart particularly jumped at the sight of that one.

_So this is it_, I thought to myself, _the big night._

I turned off the ignition, but paused, sighing. I needed to sort myself out before I walked up to that front door, or I'd confuse Bella even more than it seemed I already had. That, or clue her into something.

"God," I muttered, "Please give me peace. Calm my raging nerves. Give me confidence."

I waited a moment, for the responding peace to wash over me, before I grabbed the first of the roses I would give Bella tonight and headed up the walk to her door.

Phil answered, and appraised me with knowing eyes. I hadn't exactly told them when I'd planned to propose, but by the look in his eyes, he knew that this was the night. I watched him take me in, the dark wash jeans I wore, the button up shirt, the sports jacket, the new black leather belt I'd purchased two hours ago, because I'd forgotten my other one at home.

"Shiny shoes," he said as he invited me into the foyer with a sweep of his arm, and I almost wanted to laugh at the silly comment. Almost. Standing at the top of the stairs stood Bella, wearing a flowing, airy kind of dress. The pink of it matched the pink in her cheeks. She'd curled her hair, so that the dark curls drifted over her shoulders like a dream. She wasn't wearing heels, just some nude ballet flats, and was holding a tiny clutch to her chest tighter than she usually did.

"Hi," she said, and the sound travelled easily to me from the top of the stairs.

"Evening," I responded, "You look… amazing."

The pink in her cheeks deepened as she lowered her gaze and began to descend the stairs. "Thanks. I wasn't quite sure what to wear, but…" she gestured to me, "I think I match you pretty well."

_Better than you know_.

Her dad wished us a good night, laying a hand on her back as she stepped out the door ahead of me, and then shut it behind us.

"Hold on, Bella," I said, reaching out to grab her wrist and stop her from descending the stairs toward my car. She glanced up at me, turning back halfway, and then her eyes dropped to the rose I pulled from behind my back and handed to her.

"What…?" she started, but I held a finger up to her lips to stop her.

"I have this whole night planned," I informed her. "This first rose symbolizes my commitment to you and Renesmee, how I promise to always be there for you both."

Her eyes lit up as she lifted the single flower to her nose, sniffing the scent of it. "Thank you," she murmured.

I walked her to the car then, pulling open the passenger side door for her. I let her get in and gather herself before I shut the door behind her and headed around to the driver's side.

Sliding in, I grabbed another rose and held it out to her. She took it, smiling as if embarrassed.

"That one is for my trust. I trust you with my whole heart, Bella. I would never be suspicious of you or think you've done something wrong. You've earned my total and complete trust. I hope you can trust me in the same way."

She was nodding, adding the second rose to the first. "Of course I can," she whispered.

"Good," I said, starting up the ignition again and pulling out of the driveway. "Let's go eat."

"Let's do that," she agreed, "I'm starving."

_Well, that makes one of us._

_._

I took Bella to a restaurant on the beach. I'd reserved us a table out on the patio overlooking the sand, and the dark ocean waters, but before doing that, I presented her with another rose upon our arrival.

"This rose," I said, tucking it in with the rest, "is for your smile. Every time you smile, Bella, it lights up my heart and makes me forget there was ever a bad thing in the world. Your smile is contagious, and you never fail to bring me joy."

We went inside, and I announced our arrival. The maître d led us to the table out on the patio, underneath a heated lamp in the far corner. A candle burned in the middle of the table. I helped Bella into her seat, and then took mine across from her, holding out another rose.

"This one is for the twelve months I spent away from you. I'm thankful for them now, because during them Christ taught me and he grew me in maturity, he readied me for you two again, so that I could lead you in the way He wants me to."

For a long moment, as Bella took this rose, she looked at me with something unfathomable in her eyes. I couldn't read the emotion in them, and I desperately wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but our waiter stepped up to the table, announcing himself as 'Lawrence' and asked for our drink orders.

By the time he read us the specials and left, I'd forgotten all about my question, and instead moved on to looking through the menu. I searched for something I could actually stomach, but wasn't too unusual for me to be seen eating. If I'd ordered a salad, I think it would have confused Bella just a fair bit.

I settled on the prime rib, the smaller portion, knowing this would be a typical meal for me to eat, but I also knew I probably wouldn't eat much of it. My appetite was completely suppressed. The knots in my stomach were just too huge and tight. I doubted any food could pass for satisfactory this evening.

We ordered our food and managed to strike up a good conversation. Nothing too deep, we kept it pretty casual, and I was glad for that. This night was heavy and full enough in and of itself; I didn't need Bella bringing anything up unexpectedly.

At dessert, I gave her another rose, explaining that it was for loyalty, how I was always so grateful for her loyalty and her kindness to me. I let her know how grateful I was for her support and her encouragement to me over the past few months.

I think I took one bite of the dessert we were sharing, but for some reason Bella didn't seem to notice. She seemed lost in her own little world of thought now, and I wondered if I was blowing my cover.

I paid the bill and we headed back to the car, where I presented her with another, the final, red rose.

"This rose is for our love, Bella," I said, holding it out to her. "I love you to the moon and back, and I'll never stop loving you, I'll never stop showing you what a blessing from God you are to me."

She grinned, tucking it in with her others.

"Now," I said, reaching in to the backseat for what I needed. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said, barely audible.

I took the roses from her and laid them out on her seat. "Close your eyes," I instructed, holding up a scarf I'd borrowed from Alice the night previous. "I'm going to blindfold you. Please don't peek."

"I won't," she vowed as I tied the scarf around her eyes.

I helped her out of her shoes, and then we headed down the beach.

.

**Bella**

As soon as the veil of darkness covered my eyes, I knew something was up.

_He's going to ask you to marry him_, a voice inside me screamed, joyous and overwhelmed. No matter how much I'd tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew there would be no apprehension in him proposing this very day. I knew I'd said I'd wanted to wait, but now, in the midst of it all, it was all up in the air.

Staying true to my word, I let Edward guide me down the beach. I focused on the feel of the sand between my toes, the smell of the ocean in the air. He kept one arm around my waist, the other gripping my hand.

It felt like we walked forever, but finally, we stopped.

"Okay," he said, "Sit down." He helped to lower me to the ground, and surprisingly, I felt a blanket underneath me, padding the place between our bodies and the sand. I heard him shift down next to me, though I still didn't peek.

He fiddled with a couple things for a minute, and growing impatient I begged, "Can I peek yet?"

"Not yet," he said softly, calm.

I laughed, my emotions heightened beyond taming. I felt absolutely giddy. Just went I thought I would be able to handle it any longer, I felt him untying the scarf from around my face.

I blinked, adjusting to the surprising amount of light. I'd expected to be shrouded in darkness on the shore of the beach, but instead, I found that we were surrounded by lots and lots of mini little LED candles. They flickered as if real, though the breeze would have put them out by now if he'd lit real ones.

"How long have these been burning?" I heard myself ask, if only to distract myself. Because I knew now. I knew that he was going to propose.

"Bella," he murmured, drawing my attention back to him. I turned my gaze on his face and watched him hold up a single white rose. "Do you know what this rose is for?"

"What?" I whispered, even though I did.

"Forever," he said, his eyes limpid pools of a desire so intense it made my knees weak, despite the fact we were sitting down. I watched him pull out the ring then, so beautiful, glinting in the dim light of the candles. "Will you marry me, Bella Swan? Will you be my wife, my one and only, for the rest of forever?"

Even though I'd seen it coming, the flash of surprised heat flooded my body, making me feel like I was going to faint. I could feel my hands begin to shake as I choked, "Yes, of course."

He slid the ring onto my finger, and I stared down at it in wonder. This was actually happening. It had actually happened. Just now.

I felt Edward's hands under my jaw then, lifting my face to his, pressing his lips to mine. I looped my arms around his neck, unable to even think through the delirium.

"Oh my gosh," I gasped when we finally parted, and I leaned in to press my cheek to his chest. "Edward, it's so beautiful. How…? I thought…"

He laughed at my stammer, pressing his lips to my forehead, running his hands up and down my arms. "I bought it last week. I couldn't resist asking you now."

I turned just enough so that I could look at him. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he said, "more than a bouquet of roses and a diamond ring."

I laughed and put more effort in to stretch around, and I kissed him again.


	28. Impatience

Bella

Once we were engaged, we saw no reason to hold off on beginning to plan the wedding. We set the date within two weeks, for the third week of April—seven months from then. As soon as that happened, time seemed to fly.

I found my gown by chance. I'd been walking downtown with Rosalie, not even for wedding related things, though she chattered non-stop about it. It didn't bother me. I was happy to know that my maid of honor was just as excited about the upcoming event as I was.

Arm in arm, we'd passed a quaint little wedding shop, and I'd seen it in the window, not on one of the mannequins right up close, but a little farther into the shop.

"We need to go in here," I'd told Rose, swerving so suddenly into the shop that she nearly tripped and fell over me. I tried it on, and that was that. It was nothing special, pretty ordinary in fact. A-Line, backless, chiffon and tulle, ivory. It had a sweetheart neckline, and thin, jeweled straps—the only thing that popped out on the dress. And just my luck, it had been on sale.

I purchased the gown without even asking my mother's opinion about it. When I brought it home the same day—there had been a few alterations to be made, but I told the saleswoman we'd make them ourselves—I tried it on for her and she'd very nearly gotten tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Bella," she'd gasped, coming across my bedroom toward me, "it suits you so well. You look stunning."

"Mommy! Pincess!" I heard Nessie second from my bed, where she was set up doing puzzles on my iPad.

I laughed and went to her, scooping her up and spinning her around. "No, my love. _You're_ the princess!"

Renesmee laughed and my mom chimed in, "You're the princess, Ness. Your mommy is the queen."

.

Edward

The seven months between August and April flew by nearly incomprehensibly. It seemed we were busy all the time with some sort of planning for the future—mostly wedding plans, but then there was schooling expenses, and living situations. Through it all, Bella went back to school, able to take some face-to-face classes, which she raved about, thankful for Lana's babysitting offer. She loved making new friends, setting her laptop up in the lecture hall, studying in the quiet of the library whenever she got the chance.

I loved that she loved it. It brought pride to my soul to see her so passionate about her learning and her classes. She started her first practicum, which was eighty hours with a first grade class she absolutely fell in love with. I'd never seen her in action, but the way she talked about it and planned, and with her delegation to her class projects, I knew she'd make an amazing teacher one day.

I was so proud of Bella, for sticking to her guns through everything that had gone on in the past near two years. A teen pregnancy had never held her back, because she never let it. She forged ahead with a fierceness and a faith in Jesus I admired immensely. There were, of course, the statistics, but she never seemed to give them a second glance. Though it stung to know that she had assumed I wouldn't be in the picture again—as a result, needing to set up a good and stable future for herself and Renesmee—I was proud of her ability to step up to the plate, to take charge of her future. But most importantly, she had been seeking God's will for her life above all, and that's what made me most proud. So many people followed the guidelines for what it took to be successful and wealthy, and that was all well and good, but it meant nothing if none of it was for Jesus.

Bella had always kept that in her mind, she'd always prioritized her love for Jesus above everything else. I think that's what kept her so steady and successful in her year without me. I know I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own like that. I would have run back to my parents without hesitation, maybe taken a serving job, but never would I have forged on with the strength Bella had. That made me feel like a very weak man, I had to admit.

But what made me strong, now, was the fact that somehow God loved us enough to bring me and Bella back together. He looked down on us with enough adoration to give us things in this life that would bring us joy, of course coinciding with bringing glory to His name. It baffled me that God would plan to make our life here on earth enjoyable. Wasn't it, in fact, our purpose to serve Him with everything we had, until the end of existence? Wasn't that, in fact, our only role as Christ followers, here on earth? Who said we had to enjoy it?

Every time I looked at Bella and Nessie, the answer would ring loud and clear, clanging between my ears like a bell: _Love._

_._

Bella

We had an apartment rented in Tallahassee by January. Edward moved out of the place he'd been sharing with Emmett and Jasper as soon as they'd located a replacement tenant and was living there alone. At the end of April, Nessie and I would join him.

Rent was reasonable. The apartments were located two minutes from my school. Edward had a thirty-five minute drive to work, which wasn't exactly ideal, but it worked. The apartment had a pool, and both bedrooms had attached bathrooms. To say we were lucky—I didn't really believe in the word—was an understatement. This was definitely a part of God's plan for our blooming life together.

The first night we moved everything in, Nessie and I stayed late. It was a Saturday. We laid her down to sleep in her room—I'd insisted on setting up the crib right away, for the convenience of naps and such during our day visits. My basement suite over at Lana's looked pretty barren now. Most everything we'd located here, and I found myself pining to just be able to live here already.

Edward and I perused the apartment together, hand in hand, taking in the kitchen, the living room, the loads of boxes and mismatched furniture that was literally everywhere. My fingers itched to organize some of it.

"Did you get a good look at our bathroom?" Edward asked me, running his thumb over the diamond on my engagement ring, leading me down the hall toward the master suite. "The tub has jets and everything."

I laughed. "I've seen it all before, Edward," I reminded him, thinking back to the three occurrences where we'd come to check out these apartments.

"Yeah, but now it's ours," he insisted, and the way he said 'ours' as we stepped into the bedroom—dimly lit by a lone lamp in the corner—made me pause.

I sighed, rotating to face him and pressed my forehead to his, squeezing my eyes shut. "I wish it were the twenty-sixth of April already."

Abruptly the mood in the room changed, and we were draped in the warm pall of desire. "Me too," he replied, his voice low and husky. He cleared his throat. "We just have to be patient."

"Easier said than done," I tried to joke, to lighten the mood, forcing a giggle and moving back a little. I bounced on the edge of the mattress, bare, and gazed around at the various boxes lining the walls. "Did you know we had this much stuff?"

"It seemed to multiply when I started packing," Edward agreed, taking it all in, moving to sit next to me.

I sighed, leaning back on my elbows. "In a couple years it'll be even worse."

He laughed and groaned, exaggerated and fake. "Just think of all the Barbies!"

I giggled. "The blocks, the dress-up clothes!" I joined in.

Then he was tickling me, and then he was kissing me, and I'd relaxed my elbows, laid out flat on my back, and he was hovering over me, kissing me with too much vigor, and I, returning it, with too much eagerness.

I don't know who broke it, but Edward buried his face in my neck, panting.

"We can't do this," he murmured, his voice strained. "We promised it wouldn't happen again."

I struggled to piece together some logic in my mind. All that was pushing at my lips was, 'Why not?'. "I know," I finally said, because we had. We'd promised each other, and more importantly, God, that it would never happen again until the covenant between the three of us had been sealed.

Slowly, Edward exhaled, his breath warm against the skin of my neck and shoulder. I could feel him shaking with the effort it took to contain himself, and I pushed on his shoulders a bit so I could sit up.

I inched to the edge of the mattress, smoothing my hair. "Maybe I should take Renesmee home," I said, quiet.

"Maybe that would be a good idea," he'd responded, his body stiff as he sat beside me, his hands curled into fists of restraint.

I braved a look at his face, the set of his lips terse, his eyes hard and focused. "I love you, Edward," I whispered.

His eyes met mine, flooding again with emotion. "I love you too, Bella." He cupped my face in his hands, kissing me so softly on the forehead, I barely felt it.

_Four more months,_ I chanted in my head, _Four more months._

_._

Those last four months passed in drags and lulls. Impatience made a home in my bones, eagerness a part of my bloodstream. There was nothing I could seem to do to tame it, nothing I could do to even ignore the raging desire in my body for him.

I found myself praying for self-control and purity and peace a lot through those final months. When we knew it was coming, that the possibility of it finally happening again was drawing closer and closer, it was harder and harder to fight the temptation it seemed.

We had to be diligent. I was careful to make sure I kept my wardrobe respectful and modest—the hems of my skirts and shorts long enough, the necklines of my tops with enough coverage. He was careful not to sit too close, or to kiss me for too long. For the most part we tried to stay in the public eye. We quickly found that spending evenings alone at the new apartment wasn't a good idea, and so set up shop in my basement suite most evenings, knowing that Lana and Adam were right upstairs. That made things easier.


	29. Happily Ever After (The End)

**Bella**

And then the day was here. April twenty-sixth dawned bright and clear, with the birds singing and not a cloud in sight. It surprised me immensely that I'd been able to sleep until eight in the morning. I'd expected to wake earlier than that, after a restless sleep, unable to soothe my racing mind any longer.

But, lo and behold, I'd slept through the night, not waking once, and felt refreshed and revitalized. As I lay there, flat on my back, hands on my stomach, I heard Nessie stir in the playpen across the room, groaning and rolling over.

"Mama…" she mumbled, "where are you?"

"I'm right here, baby girl," I murmured, sitting up at her groggy call, "Do you want to come cuddle?"

"Yeah," she said, kind of whiny, kind of whimpering. This was the voice of a very tired, very morning adverse Renesmee Carlie. I had hoped that today would be one of those days where she just shone like the sun all day, but already it wasn't looking like it.

I went to her, pulling her into bed and under the sheets with me. She curled in to me, tucking her head under my chin and sighed. Her hair was tickling my nose, but I held her close anyway, glad for the closeness, glad for the embrace.

Already my heart was beginning to race at the prospect of the day, knowing there was so much to do, and that so much could still go wrong. Decorations could not show up, music could get mixed up, what if someone important had developed the stomach flu overnight? Despite all these qualms, however, not once did doubts about Edward cross my mind. I knew with one hundred percent clarity that he would be there waiting at the end of the aisle, eyes shining only for me…

.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Nessie and I had been reading from her story book Bible, through the tale of David and the Giant. This seemed to be her favorite story, one she demanded over and over again. I hadn't the faintest clue why.

"Good morning?" I heard my mom call through the door, "Anyone awake in there?"

"Morning!" I called, "Come in!"

She did, swinging open the door and stepping into my old bedroom. We were back home for the wedding. It just made it easier to have it here, where everyone had been, and everyone would be familiar with it.

"Gama!" Renesmee squealed when she saw my mom, nearly chucking her book at my face.

"Oh!" my mom gasped as she came toward to bed to scoop Nessie up, "don't bash your mommy's face today! She can't have a black eye for her wedding!"

I laughed, sitting up as my mom swung Nessie into the cradle her arms made. I shut the book and returned it to our bag as she cooed at my daughter, swinging her around in small little circles.

"How about I take you downstairs and get you some breakfast, so Mommy can shower?" she said to her, still bouncing her. Renesmee wailed with laughter. I wondered if I needed to second-guess my judgment about her day. She already seemed quite happy.

"That sounds wonderful," I admitted, already heading toward my en suite. "I won't be too long," I promised, "Two hours tops."

My mom laughed and winked at me. "Take as long as you need."

.

Rosalie walked in through the front door at eleven o' clock on the dot, as punctual as ever. She wore shorts and a tank top, had a striped nautical looking bag slung over her right shoulder, long blonde hair pulled back from her face by her sunglasses, and was holding two Starbucks cups in her hands.

"Lime cooler anyone?" she asked as I approached, taking both the cups from her so she could put her keys away and lean over to unstrap her sandals.

"Thank you!" I enthused, sucking on the straw greedily. Despite the time, it was nearly ninety degrees already and I was parched.

"I got you a Venti," she explained, "because you need to stay extra hydrated today. I don't want you passing out at the altar."

I rolled my eyes over the cup I was still sipping from. "Trust me, I wouldn't let that happen."

Rosalie grinned and took her iced coffee from me. "You never know."

.

The next two hours passed in a blur. I felt like I was only catching snippets of the day, moments of recall here and there that I wasn't even certain I'd remember down the road if it weren't for the photographer, snapping them between frames.

Alice and Lana—who didn't show her discomfort in being a bridesmaid among girls seven years younger than her in the slightest—arrived soon after Rosalie did, and then came the hair stylist and makeup artist, a tandem team who acted like best friends, but I'm sure were just business partners.

They worked in perfect synchronization, rotating us through efficiently and timely. It hardly occurred to me how much time was passing, as I sat first on the back porch so Nelia, the makeup artist, could work with the natural light, and then second, atop Jamie's stool so she could work my hair into the style we'd practiced twice in the last six months.

I watched Renesmee from across the room, the way she was bouncing around in her pretty little flower girl's dress, with her hair all done up in gliding, boinging curls. She was chasing Trixie, my mom's new Maltese, around the living room, squealing and laughing.

The photographer was getting some great pictures, I could tell, and I knew she was also hamming it up. He'd already flashed a few of me, here in this stool, winking at me and telling me I looked beautiful. His partner, a spritely looking younger girl—his sister, girlfriend? I wasn't exactly sure—was over at Edward's parents' place, capturing their readying moments.

"Okay," Jamie said to me then, holding up a mirror so I could see the finished product, curled and loose, but the top half pulled back in braids. "Is it perfect or what?"

"I love it, Jamie," I told her honestly, "It's even better than the practice runs."

She hugged me and congratulated me, the same as Nelia had done, and began to pack her things.

.

Five minutes later, as I climbed into my dress, standing still so Rosalie could zip me up the side, I stared into the mirror, at the young woman looking back at me. Her eyes were bright, wide, and full of an exultant excitement that couldn't be contained.

"I can't believe this is finally happening…" I murmured, mostly to myself, but Rosalie snickered from where she was hooking the clasp up under my ribs, over top of the zipper.

"_Finally_," she emphasized. And then she became serious, looking up over my shoulder, into my eyes through the reflection, her hands coming to rest on my shoulder. She looked gorgeous in her lavender dress, with her hair pulled back. She smiled, softly and genuinely. "I'm so happy for you, Bella. I'm so glad things worked out for you two."

.

**Edward**

It was two thirty. There was half an hour till go time, and I sat fidgeting in the back room of the church, praying stiltedly between conversation with the guys. Jasper and Emmett had both, of course, shown up as my right hand men, and so had my dad. It had been slightly awkward asking him to be my best man, but I really wouldn't have had it any other way. He meant so much to me, and had spoken so much truth and wisdom into my life.

He really was the best.

It wasn't long now. Not long until I could see Renesmee, until I could see Bella, until we were finally, at long last, united how we were meant to be, tied together under a promise to God, finally able to live under the same roof, and raise our daughter together. At long last, I would finally be able to be privy to every detail of their lives, to watch Renesmee's every move, every growth spurt, every challenge and every success. At long last, I would finally be able to hold Bella in my arms how I'd longed to since that fateful night so long ago, to hold her again that way, to truly treasure her now with no limitations, to hold nothing back, because there was no longer the need to do so.

"What are you thinking?"

I looked up into my dad's face, thoughts interrupted and smiled. "Just… Y'know, here on out. Today's the first day of the rest of our lives."

"How right you are," he said, lowering himself onto the leather sofa beside me. For a minute we watched Jasper and Emmett horse off across the room.

"I've asked God so many times why it had to be this way, why we had to wait so long, why the struggle… But today… Today it all makes sense, even if I don't have all the answers."

"He makes beautiful things out of the messes we think couldn't mean anything."

"Yeah," I said, "He really does."

I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder then. "Can I pray with you, son? Before we head out there?"

"I'd like that."

.

Ten minutes later I watched her come toward me, almost as if she were floating, eyes bright, grin stretched wide, on the arm of her father.

"Mommy," Renesmee said from where I held her in my arms. Last night at the rehearsal, she'd done a great job of standing at Rosalie's side, where she was supposed to be, but after coming down the aisle and seeing all of the people staring at her and cooing over her, she came to me, nervous and unsure. I didn't mind holding her for now.

"Yeah, that's your mommy," I whispered back to her, unable to tear my eyes from Bella's. I saw tears brimming there, spilling over and down her cheeks. "She looks so beautiful."

Renesmee clung tightly to me, her arms around my neck, and though I didn't need to look at her, I knew she was staring at Bella, too.

I wished desperately that she would be able to remember this day, the significance of it, the lesson in it. I wished she would be able to look back on it, and learn from it, to know just how important God would be in her life, if she would allow Him that highest of places in her heart; and that, even though there would be trials in her life, days where she doubted, days where she would feel lost, that He would always be the something she could hold on to. He had been that for me, our Lord.

Bella came up on us then, and her dad released her, let her walk the last two paces toward me. She reached for me, holding out a hand and I took it, squeezing it firmly. Silently, I vowed never to let go.

.

**Bella**

I cried, just as I suspected I would.

Pastor Gregory, a pastor who had seen us grow up together, move through youth group together, come together, fall apart, prayed over our entire family, and prayed separately for the union that Edward and I were at long last coming in to.

The ceremony, the semantics and simple traditions of it, seemed to fly past quicker than the first half of the day had. A prayer was said, a declaration of intention, two readings, exchange of vows and the rings, the signing of the registry. We took private communion, just between the two of us, where Edward fed me the bread, and then himself, and tipped the cup first to my lips and then to his.

We returned to the altar, where Pastor Gregory would say his final words, make his last mark, and then we would be presented.

"Before I pronounce you man and wife," he said, reaching out to take hold of one of my shoulders and one of Edward's, "I have just one more thing I want you to do. Your wedding day is one that seems to fly. It's a day filled with emotion, friends, rings and dances. Many people remember how fleeting their own wedding day was. So I want you to take a few seconds to look into each other's eyes."

I looked intentionally at Edward, he looked intentionally at me, his eyes seeming to burn right to my core, straight into my soul, past my heart, past my insecurities and flaws and fears, taking into account my hopes, my dreams, the potential of my future, what made me beautiful to him. He looked right at that all, and just as easily, I looked right back at all of that in him.

"Think about the happiness that you're feeling in this place, in this moment," the pastor continued, "really let that sink in, into your heart and mind. Now, I want you to think about your life together in twenty years. Where are you? What are you doing? Well all know that your visions of the future are not always identical, but always complimentary. John Lennon once said, 'a dream you dream alone is only a dream; a dream you dream together, now _that_ is a reality. That new reality starts now." He paused, for just a moment, and stepped back, "With that being said, I officially pronounce you man and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen. Edward, you may kiss your bride."

With a passion and an excitement we'd kept kindled for the past who knows how long, he drew me in, and he kissed me, long and slow, but with a rushed eagerness I couldn't ignore, all at the same time.

The people around us seemed to blur and then fade entirely out of focus, if only for a few seconds.

Their cheers and applause came back to us a few seconds later, and as we separated, and turned to face the crowd that had come to support us, to love and shower us with joy, I held tightly to his hand, beyond giddy, and thanking God over and over again.

.

We took pictures, we ate roast beef and drank juice—though wine was available. We sat as a slideshow played, moments of hilarity, moments of sobriety. A moment where I gasped out loud as a picture of Edward holding a newborn Renesmee flashed up on the screen. I hadn't remembered until now that my mom had taken a picture.

I'd been angry with her afterwards, imploringly begging her to delete it, asking her why she'd done it.

We danced, first together, and then apart, with others, spinning around, and then taking a break to come back together, to drink something, to snack on the fruit the caterers had left at the head table.

We talked for hours on end with people, and when the night finally ended, we kissed a sleeping Renesmee goodbye, who'd been set up across a couple of chairs, under a couple of suit jackets, sleeping under the outdoor tent, in the late night breeze.

We slipped away, hand in hand, to a hotel with a wall of tempered glass, so that we could see out, but no one could see in.

And we shared each other, in the way we'd longed to for so entirely long. There were no reservations, there were no boundaries. There were tears, but only because I was so grateful and so overcome with emotion in the hours we dragged into the morning.

We treasured each other, with gentleness, an appreciation, a slow 'taking in' of sorts, a remembering, a recalling. I'd forgotten how easily he set my skin on fire with his touch. I'd forgotten the way our mouths melded so perfectly together, in pristine fashion. I'd forgotten the way our bodies moved together. And I cried again, for if plans had gone differently, boundaries had been set those many nights ago, this wouldn't have been merely remembering, but discovering. But then… If it hadn't happened, we never would have had Renesmee, and for that alone, I would _never_ take back the misjudged steps we'd taken.

We were so much better for it now. We'd learned so much, come to depend so much more on God. And though times had been hard, yes there had been times I'd doubted and been angry, and wanted to give up on it all, there had also been hope, something to hold on to, through the winds of the storm. And that had been Jesus.

The gentleness that began our night turned to eagerness, a building, a hurried, frazzled need to be closer, and closer still, than we already were.

And then there was relief, release and shattering light. But most of all, there was a sigh that breathed, 'Finally'.

And afterwards, we slept.


	30. Future Shot: EJ

**Edward**

I don't know exactly when the contractions started, but I was woken when I heard the bathtub start in the en suite. Rolling groggily, I checked the clock. 5:06 am. Through the partly closed door that led to the bathroom, I could see Bella, standing over the sink counter, hands gripping the edge, head hanging.

I shoved the sheets from my body, the cool air coming in through the window hitting me square in the bare chest. Outside, I could hear it raining. As I stood, I called out quietly to her: "Bella?"

She didn't respond, and I moved toward her, stepping through the doorway. The bathtub was filling. I put my hands on her shoulders, tensed, but as I touched her they seemed to relax a little, and she exhaled, long and hard, through her lips.

When she lifted her head, her eyes found mine in the mirror, clear and cuttingly dark, focused.

"How far apart are they?" I asked.

She glanced at the time on her phone and said, "Seven minutes. That one was only six."

_Are they painful?_ I thought about asking, but then second guessed it. Of course they were.

"I'm just gonna climb in the bath," she said, peeling off the sleeping tank she wore. Her belly ballooned out in front of her. A couple stretch marks carved their way through the skin under her belly button. As she moved toward the tub, she cradled it. Even now, she was so beautiful, round and large with our second child. "You should go back to sleep," she said to me as she sunk beneath the water, "it'll be awhile before we have to leave."

"Are you sure?" I asked, "You don't want me to stay with you?"

"I'm okay for now," she assured me, "I'll wake you when I need you."

.

"Edward."

It felt as if I'd been asleep for a mere five minutes, but when I glanced at the alarm clock again, the first thing my eyes found upon waking, I saw it was past 6:30.

I turned toward Bella, where she lay on her side, facing me. She had on a pair of shorts, and one of my t-shirts.

"Hey," I said, my voice thick with sleep as I pushed myself up on my elbows, reaching over to lay my palm over the crest of her belly, "How are you doing?"

"They're getting really intense," she said. She looked exhausted. She had her hair in a ponytail, her face bare of any makeup.

"Do you think it's time to go?"

She shook her head, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "I'm not sure…" She trailed off then, her eyes closing, her brows knitting together. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and breathed out again. Underneath my hand, which had stayed where it was, I felt her belly tighten and harden.

_Whoa._

I sat up, reaching my other arm around her, other hand going to the opposite side of her belly. I could feel the focused energy in her body, as she breathed slowly and surely through the contraction.

"You're doing so good, baby," I murmured, and under the pall of my words, she seemed to relax.

As the pain seemed to pass, she opened her eyes and found my face. The chocolate in her irises was dark. "Yeah," she said, "let's go."

Outside on the couch, Bella's mom was sleeping. She'd been with us for the past week, so that she could watch Nessie for us while we were at the hospital. As Bella worked toward the front door to get her feet into a pair of flip flops, I woke her mom, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Edward," she said, sitting up. She rubbed her face with her palms, and then glanced over to the front door, where she found Bella. Her gaze found mine again. "Is it time?"

I nodded. "Sounds like it. We're gonna head over to the hospital now."

"Okay," she said, and as she stood, I heard Bella moan.

Immediately I was standing, rushing over to her, where her hands were planted against the door, her forehead resting on the place between her hands. I cupped her shoulders in my hands, gently massaging.

"Oh, God, it hurts," she groaned, her breath hiking.

"Breathe, Bella," I encouraged, "Slow."

She obeyed, her breath evening. _In, out, in, out._

In the kitchen, I could hear Renee begin to brew a pot of coffee. I figured she wouldn't be going back to bed now.

Bella sighed a final breath and straightened. "Okay," she said, hand dropping to the doorknob, "let's go before I get another one."

I grabbed the bag and slung it over my shoulder as Bella's mom came over and hugged her daughter quickly.

"Good luck, you guys. I'll be waiting for news."

"Thanks, Mom," Bella murmured, and turned toward the door.

As she pulled it open and we started to step out of the apartment, Renesmee's small voice stopped us.

"Mommy?"

I glanced over my shoulder, where our two and a half year old daughter was standing in the mouth of the hallway, gripping the hem of her Disney princess nightgown, her hair a halo around her face.

"Hey, baby," I said to her, putting down the bag and going to her, pulling her up into my arms. "Did we wake you up?"

Renesmee stared past me, where Bella was coming toward us. "Mommy?" she said, "What's wrong?"

Bella shook her head, a smile on her lips. "Nothing's wrong, sweet girl. Mommy and Daddy are going to have the baby."

"Really?" Nessie said, sudden excitement in her voice, leaning away from me, toward Bella. But she didn't take Nessie into her arms.

"Yeah, baby girl. You hang out with Grandma and be a good girl, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

"I love you so much," Bella said, kissing our daughter on the forehead and then gazing back to look at her for a moment. I could see the worry in her eyes as she gazed at Renesmee, the anxiety she'd been confiding in me about the entire pregnancy, from the moment we saw the positive on the test. It was unfathomable to Bella that she would ever be able to love this second baby as much as she loved Renesmee; and then at the same time, she was so entirely afraid that Nessie wouldn't get the attention and love she needed once this new baby came along; that it would take up too much of her time and attention, and that Renesmee would be pushed to the wayside. I saw all of this flash in her eyes, and then she was casting our daughter a final smile, and she turned and headed out the door.

After I hugged and kissed Renesmee, and handed her over to Renee, I ducked out into the hallway and found Bella contracting against the wall. As she sighed and let it pass, she swallowed and tucked a few pieces of escaped hair behind her ears.

"Okay," she said, "Let's go."

.

We went. The contractions seemed to get worse in the car, closer together and much more intense. Bella became very vocal, and her grip on the dash in front of her never seemed to waver. She held on, white-knuckled, the entire drive to the hospital. Mercifully the traffic was light—a miracle for a Monday morning—and we made it to the hospital in a shorter amount of time than I'd thought we would.

We left the car with the valet and when an orderly came over with a wheelchair, Bella waved him off, waddling toward the sliding front doors. I knew she wanted to get inside before another contraction hit.

She stopped between the outer and inner doors, gripping the sleeve of my t-shirt in her first as another contraction crashed over her. She gritted her teeth and moaned, the sound piquing into a high-pitched keen at the end.

"Breathe," I coached, my hands rubbing up and down her arms, the bag abandoned on the floor beside us for the moment.

"I can't," she squeezed out and I realized she wasn't breathing fast—instead she was holding her breath.

"Bella, breathe. In and out."

She did, the hiss of her exhale long and slow. Her forehead fell against my shoulder as the pain ended, and she took a moment to recollect herself. Finally, she pushed off of me and continued on. I grabbed the bag and followed her inside, through the lobby, toward the bank of elevators at the back. She pressed the 'up' button and we waited.

We were inside and riding up to the eighth floor when another contraction hit. As she locked her arms around my neck and swayed back and forth, I calculated that not three minutes had passed between this and the last contraction, and I was thankful we were here.

When the elevator stopped, she was still contracting, moaning through the pain. I didn't make a move to get us out into the hallway, and so the doors fell shut again.

"They're getting closer together," Bella mumbled against my chest, and this was how I knew the pain had ended.

"Good thing we're here," I said and grinned as I pressed the 'doors open' button, and we emerged out into the hallway.

"Hi, there," a nurse called as we approached the main desk. She had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing scrubs with clouds all over them. "How are we doing this morning?"

"Good," I answered, and when I looked over at Bella, she was contracting again, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, arms folded on the desk.

"In labor, are we?" the nurse questioned, glancing over at Bella.

In answer, Bella moaned lowly. I rubbed circles into her back.

The nurse took Bella's information, looped a paper bracelet around her wrist and showed us to triage room number six. A nurse came in and got her hooked up to the monitors and took her blood pressure.

"Baby's heart rate looks great," she said, reading the print out on the machine by the bed. Her tone was cheery and upbeat.

"Good," I said.

"Your blood pressure's normal," she reported to Bella and then requested she lay down so she could check and find out how dilated she was. "A five and a half—almost a six, I would say!" she announced a moment later, as she peeled off her gloves, and I sat, a little stunned, in the chair by the bed.

Bella groaned, lost in the waves of pain again, and I gathered myself enough to go to her, where she was curled on her side atop the bed, clenching and unclenching her fist.

"We'll admit you," she said as she left the room.

"Thank God," Bella sighed.

.

The whole experience was crazy.

From the very start of this pregnancy I'd been looking forward to the birth, to being involved in this one, to witnessing it. I had thought a lot about what it might be like, what I had to look forward to and be wary of. I'd expected some of this; some it, not so much.

For example, when Bella's water broke halfway down the hall as we were being admitted, I hadn't expected it to soak my shoes so much that my socks got wet. I had to fight back a gag at that one. Another thing I didn't expect was how vocal Bella was through the whole thing. I didn't know if she'd been like this with Nessie, but with this baby, she moaned and groaned with each contraction. I wondered what pushing would be like.

An hour later the nurse who'd come to gather us when we'd been admitted—and stayed with us the rest of the time—checked her again, and she was at an eight. I knew enough from the classes I'd insisted we take—I wanted to know what was going on—that there wasn't far to go until Bella would bring this baby into the world. I felt the fires of excitement lick up the walls in my stomach.

"You're so close, babe! You're doing amazing!" I said, in excited whispers, close to Bella's head. She didn't seem to hear me, her eyes closed, turning her head back and forth from where she was kneeling on the bed, contracting. They were coming so frequently now it was like she didn't even get a break in between.

A couple contractions later, Bella's eyes flashed open and focused intently on mine, from where she rested on her side. "Oh, God," she said. As if she had no control over her body, she flipped onto her back, and her body gave a gigantic push.

"Okay, okay," the nurse said to Bella, coming to the foot of the bed. "Bella, I need to check and see if you're fully dilated."

She groaned in response and pushed again.

"Tell me when your contraction is over, Bella, and I will check you."

"Ohhh," she moaned, continuing to bear down, gripping the material of my t-shirt in one hand—did she notice?—as she did so. "I can't stoop…"

"Okay, then, Bella—I'm just going to check you."

When the nurse went ahead and did her thing, Bella bowed off the bed, nearly screaming in agony, and she rearranged her grip on my t-shirt, in the process scraping her nails across my chest.

I winced.

"Okay," the nurse—Katie, I suddenly remembered—said, standing from the stool and going over to the door. I heard her across the hall call for one of the nurses to help her, and for someone to call the doctor.

It all happened very suddenly. Apparently Bella knew how to push a baby out. In a quick succession of pushes, I could see the baby's head crowning, and it had an amazing mop of dark hair, matted and slimy-looking.

"You're doing amazing, baby! I can see the baby's head! He—she—it's almost here!" I could hear myself shouting.

A couple more pushes, and the baby's head was out, and then in an instant, the rest of its body slid out into the doctor's hands. Then the baby was screaming, its face turning purple. It was slimy and covered in this white lotiony looking stuff.

"Congratulations, Mom and Dad. You have a gorgeous baby boy!" Dr. Kendrick announced.

"A boy!" Bella cried, searching for my face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"A boy!" I repeated, laughing and crying at the same time—I felt kind of like a wimp, but c'mon, this was pretty amazing—and I leaned in to kiss her.

"Edward," Dr. Kendrick said over the baby's—his—wailing screams, "would you like to cut the cord?"

"Sure!" I said, moving over a bit to take the scissors. I followed their instructions and cut the thick, rubbery umbilical cord, and then Dr. Kendrick hoisted our baby boy up onto Bella's chest, where her hospital gown was already pulled down to allow him skin-to-skin contact.

"Oh my gosh," she sobbed, cradling him to her as his entire body shook with his screams. One of his fists struck her in the jaw. A nurse moved in with a towel, drying him off a bit. I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and focused on them: my wife, this beautiful new addition to our family. A nurse pulled a cap down over his head, and as the baby snuggled into Bella's warmth, he suddenly seemed to remember who had him and where he was, and he calmed significantly. He let out a few more shuddering sobs, and then he kind of sighed. "He's so beautiful," she whispered to me, and I knelt by the bed, running a finger over his cheek. He stared somewhere off in the distance.

"Welcome to the world, Ethan James," I murmured, as his little hand wrapped tightly around my finger.

.

Later, Renesmee came to meet her baby brother. I met her and Renee down in the lobby.

When she saw me as they stepped through the doors, she shrieked, "Daddy, Daddy!" and took off running toward me.

"Hey, you!" I cried, sweeping her up into my arms and planting a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "How was Grandma? Was she good for you?"

Bella's mom laughed as she caught up, and Nessie looked confused. Then she peered around behind me and asked, "Where's Mommy?"

"She's upstairs with Ethan, resting," I explained, "She and the baby are very tired."

"How's she doing?" her mom asked as she gave me a side hug.

"Good. Minimal repairs. She's just exhausted." Then I turned back to Renesmee, bouncing her a little in my arms. "Who's ready to meet their baby brother?"

"Mee!" she shouted, lifting both hands in the air.

I tickled her under the armpit and she clamped both elbows to her sides, giggling that little girl laugh.

"Then let's go!"

I let Renesmee push the button and we rode up to the eighth floor together. We found their room and when we stepped in, Bella sat up a little in bed.

"Nessie!" she said, and Renesmee grinned, moving toward her.

"Hi, Mommy!"

"Hi, baby. I missed you!"

Nessie clambered up onto the bed and crawled across the sheets to where Bella was sitting cross-legged, propped against some pillows, cradling Ethan. Curiously, Nessie pulled back the edge of the blanket to get a look at his face.

"Nessie, this is your baby brother, Ethan," Bella announced, and I stood by the door, watching the tender moment in silence. Watching the three of them together made my heart expand so suddenly, I thought it might explode with pride. That was my family, there. "Can you say hi?" Bella prompted her.

"Hi, baby brother Ethan," Nessie said. She pulled off his hat, running her hand over his head.

"Gentle," Bella coached, one hand hovering close to hers, in case she needed to intervene. "Ethan's head is very delicate still. We don't want to break it."

"He has a nose," Nessie said.

Bella giggled quietly. "Yes, he does. Just like your nose." She bopped our daughter on the nose and Nessie giggled. At the sound, Ethan wiggled a bit and opened his big gray-blue eyes.

"He has eyes!" Nessie screamed, all at once, bouncing on the bed a little.

At the suddenness of it all, Ethan jumped and began to cry, that rattling, new baby cry. Bella jiggled him in her arms a little, and Nessie backed off a bit.

"Daddy?" she said.

I went to her, taking her in my arms. "It's okay, Ness. You just startled him a little. Babies cry—that's what they do."

"Did I hurt him?" she asked, her eyes big and wide.

"No, baby, you didn't hurt him. He's okay."

"He's okay, Nessie girl," Bella promised, looking up at her. "He's just fine."

Renesmee hesitated a moment more and then she said, "Okay, Daddy, I want to go back."

I set her back down on the bed and she crawled back over to Bella and Ethan. She looked at him for a moment, and then up at Bella, who was shushing Ethan.

"It's okay," she soothed.

"It's okay, Ethan," Nessie joined in, "Sh, sh, sh…" And without even being prompted, she leaned down to kiss his little forehead.

Over Nessie's head, Bella glanced up at me and grinned.

So this was what wholeness felt like.


End file.
